<p>I would spend most of the day yelling at her about cheating on her income taxes the year before she died, thereby creating an unholy mess that had to be straightened out by her executor (me) in repeated and lengthy visits to an IRS office in the sort of neighborhood where people are pleasantly surprised if their cars are still there when they return to them.</p>
<p>Elderly people who say to themselves, “Oh, it doesn’t matter if I cheat on my taxes. The IRS will never figure it out during my lifetime,” may be correct in their thinking, but they ought to realize that the IRS will figure it out during SOMEONE’s lifetime, and that someone is probably their son or daughter.</p>
<p>OK, having finished my rant, I will say that I would like to spend the day with my aunt who died in 1976. I really enjoyed her company, and we shared many interests, but I didn’t know her all that well. In the 30 years since her death, I have heard many interesting things about her from other family members and I have seen a lot of letters, photos, and other documents that indicate that there was much more to her than I ever realized. I would love to spend the day with her learning more about her life and her perspectives (rather than mostly talking about me, which is what I’m afraid I did 30 years ago).</p>
<p>jmmom,
We don’t get Parade magazine here either, but all I had to do was read the title of this thread and the tears started to flow. I don’t cry easily at all, but this did it, big time. I also might have to “cheat” and split my day, part of the day with my mom and part with my dad. But what are the rules here? Can it please be a day when they are both healthy and not suffering terribly in death as they both did? I would not go shopping or do anything like that with my mom. I’d probably gather up videotapes and DVD’s of the theater and music performances her grandchildren have been in for the past two years since she died, and we’d have a ball watching them together. She would have found the time to be at every one of those performances. With my Dad it would be harder since he’s been gone a long time. He never met his grandchildren and so I would have to introduce him starting with my oldest, who is named for my Dad. I would have to show him some of their performances, too, since the musical talent descends from him. Then, I would love to go to a baseball game with him, to show him that I never “outgrew” it.</p>
<p>Berurah, my choice would be similar to yours. I would love it if it were possible to spend a day with the 3 babies I lost shortly after their births. Since we’re dreaming here, the day would be spent with them at the ages they would be today! I have wondered so often over the years what they’d each be like if they had lived, how they would have gotten along with their sisters, what their dreams would be. </p>
<p>My other choice would be my best friend from the time I was 12 who died of AIDS in 1994.</p>
<p>Oh, honey, sending you <em>MAJOR</em> {{{{{{{{{{HUGS}}}}}}}}}. I am <em>SO</em> very sorry for the losses of your three precious babies. Wishing you peace and comfort, ~berurah</p>
<p>I would spend the day with my older sister (killed one week before Christmas by a drunk driver in 1990) looking at pictures of our kids (hers and mine) as they have grown up without her. I dream about her all the time…mostly that she was not really dead afterall and that she was just living somewhere else. Bittersweet dreams…you know.</p>
<p>I still talk to my dad periodically. When I’m woodworking and taking way to long to get something just so, I know he’s saying “no one but you will know about that”. Other times when I know he would have good advice. I still get to hear his voice on the answering machine when I call Mom and she’s away.</p>
<p>BanditTX ^There is a radio interview with my Sister in law which is still available on line (she was an environmental health activist, and was commenting on how to keep kids safe from household pesticides and other chemicals.) I listen to it every once in a while to hear her voice.</p>
<p>isn’t it amazing the holes in our hearts from folks we love…babies we have lost, loved parents, friends, celebrities who made us laugh…how important it is to share what we have done with our children with our parents is the big theme…I tend to believe they know and are proud…I can’t listen to my parents voices (home movies were all silent) but, I do know that random things make them seem right at my side, sometimes… I put a strawberry jibertz in my crocs for my dad…his favorite fruit… etc etc…</p>
<p>another twist on this thread, something a friend shared, great way to think about what really matters…
you are 50, plenty of money, what do you want to do…
you have a rare disease with 5-10 yrs left, what do you want to do…
you have 24 hours to live, write down what you will miss…</p>
<p>I think that is a great progression to what really matters to us…many things interfere with what we wish we could do…we have to make time to get those things done periodically…to me, CC is a classic example of how much some folks really like consistent voices…periodic give and take…a warm fuzzy or grin or hugs as only Berurah hugs!!</p>
<p>Well, here’s another person I’d like to spend time with. Richard Feynman. After I read his first couple of biographies, I thought, “What a fun guy!” The best part about talking to him would be that it wouldn’t have to be about physics, since I’m sure it would all be over my head. We could talk about art, music, history and any number of things. If you’re interested in a great story, read “Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman”. He really was a “curious” character! </p>
<p>It are posts like these that remind me to live each day in the moment, and cherish what I have now, no matter how seemingly bad things might appear to me at the time.</p>
<p>I read the cover of Parade and immediately thought of my H’s paternal grandfather—great-grandpa to our 3 daughters. He left us in Nov of 2004…1 yr and 9 mos after great-grandma passed away at age 93. He was the patriarch that held us together…physically slowing down but sharp as wit. I would just spend time with him and ask whether he thought the “family” was doing a “good job”…I miss his wisdom.</p>
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