I would like to invite all of you to meet my magazine! I know I haven’t posted much over here lately, but I’ve been rather busy trying to launch ReMemories Magazine. Please consider this a ‘soft launch’ with the hope of publishing every Friday (and possibly in between). No, I’m not making any money off of it. Yes, I’d love feedback and contributions. Tomorrow will officially kick off the first (albeit small) publication, so stay tuned!
This time of year it seems as though everyone says, “make meaningful moments!” or “Every moment counts!” Between magazines, television and commercials, you’re pretty much guaranteed to feel as though you aren’t doing enough or baking enough or buying enough this year.
Make Meaningful Moments Mine I lost one of my oldest and dearest friends this April to cancer. He didn’t even make it to 38th birthday. I blogged through my grief (elsewhere) and I’ve included an excerpt of it here. Rereading it only reinforced my resolve: making moments meaningful has, well, much more meaning now. I’ve stopped listening to all the noise, noise, noise, and I’m redefining what it means to make these moments mine – especially during the holidays.
Here is my previous post from April 2013:
Life is Fleeting (reposted)
I recently lost one of my oldest and dearest friends to cancer. And while I could wax on about how wonderful he was and what an impact he made on my life, I’m not going to. Instead, I’m going to tell you how his death has affected me.
Christopher died exactly ten days ago. In those ten days I’ve hugged my children more, tried to find the beauty in the simplest of things, and tell those that I love well, that I love them. My children and I wrote letters to Christopher telling him how very much he would be missed. We drew pictures for him to articulate how we felt when words didn’t do us justice. Then we tied them to balloons and let them go.
This is what his death has taught me: to let go. Let go of the noise. Let go of the petty and the annoying. There’s neither room nor reason for it in my life. And let me tell you: that is a very freeing experience. Where once I was tethered by a sense of social obligation and pulled along the strings of “have to do this” and “should do that”, I am now free to float above the smog. I have become the balloon: once tethered, now set free and floating along my own whims.
I have been remiss in articulating myself. I have been remiss in teaching my children how to love themselves. For how can they be taught to love themselves from a mom that doesn’t love herself? No. That will never do. I am going to take time out of my day every day to write just a little bit more.
Did I Keep My Promise?
For the most part, yes I did. Did I write as often as I wanted to? No. Instead, I went on mini-adventures with my kids. I walked away from a toxic working environment. I went to the beach. I played in the sand. I bought a book just because. I giggled and ate popcorn with my daughter. I went on walks and discussed politics with my son. I fell in love with the man of my dreams.
Christopher, I miss you, but this Christmas I’m also very grateful for you – both your life and your death. In life you brought me many meaningful moments to cherish. In death you’ve given me a new perspective.
I’ve learned to make meaningful moments all year – not just over the holidays, and certainly not by listening to the media. I’ve never felt more grateful, more full of love and life. Give it a try: make meaningful moments of your own that aren’t defined by anyone but you.