My granddad died last week at the ripe old age of 81. Since his passing, memories of him in all different stages/ages of my life have fondly reeled through my mind like old movies. Details and events and conversations we shared together have suddenly been called to memory – things that I haven’t thought of in 20 or more years now at the front of my mind, and in processing those memories, I wonder what makes us remember the things we do? And not the other things?
As we reminisced and shared old stories about granddad amongst the family after the funeral, my mom and siblings recalled things I had completely forgotten. Isn’t it bewildering how two people can experience the same moment but only one of them remember? What makes us do that?
When we experience someone close to us dying, I think as humans we innately examine our own lives and take stock of our choices, contemplate our own legacy, wonder what people may say about us should we suddenly pass away. I’ve been reflecting on those things since my grandfather passed as a means of direction and accountability, and the last few days I have been thinking about what my kids might one day remember about me when I’m gone. What are the details that Haynes will remember? What are the things that Korbyn and Austin will? And, if I dare, what are the small details I want them to remember?
One of the truest things I’ve learned as an adult is that someone’s perception is their reality, and although their perception feels very real, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s factual. Nevertheless, it is how they see, remember, and believe. So, I wonder when I’m teaching them to take care of their things, to keep their rooms clean, to practice good hygiene, to dress nice, to use good manners, will they later see those things of acts of love? Or will they not? Will they perceive those things as being too harsh? Too hovering? Too strict? I know they can’t see it now in their adolescence, but will they later see that as a mother’s guidance and love?
Parenting requires so much learning, and it is the hardest work, but it’s the work I’m most passionate about. I hope to one day say that it is the work I am most proud of. I don’t know if my kids will remember that I tried every day to keep our home clean, that I deemed it important to make them healthy, balanced dinners. I don’t know if they’ll remember how much I loved to have picnics with them, how much I valued table time as a family. I don’t know if they’ll say they knew the heart of God just by living within the walls of our home. I don’t know if they’ll say they had the best example of marriage from watching their dad and me. But I hope they do. I hope they feel loved without me saying it, just like I felt from my granddad. And I hope they look back on it all, no matter how old they get, and know that I parented them within the context of what I believed to be important, and much of what I believed to be important was because of the influence and guidance of my incredible grandparents.
-by Destini McPherson
