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Hindsight is 20/20 and often when I’m looking for something, I tend to find it, but when I look back over my life, it all seems to fit together. A bit like Legos. One piece is fine all on its own, but you can’t build anything without fitting it all together.

Even if I look at just the past two years: if my Dad wouldn’t have gotten sick and then three-times outlived his original 4-6 month prognosis to give us all the time we needed to work through the process of losing him, I wouldn’t have been able to make it through his death with as much grace as I did. If I hadn’t been through the process of losing my Dad (with Laurel right by my side, I might add), there is absolutely no way that I would be functioning right now, a month after having lost Laurel and her girls.

But what I cannot get out of my head is, “What is THIS loss preparing me for?” I know that’s the negative way to look at this and I know it accomplishes nothing but throwing myself into the future and worrying about something that hasn’t yet happened. But I can’t help it. The last two years have been one thing right after another and almost none of it has been fun or easy. Have good things come out of the strife? Of course. I’ve realized a strength that I never thought was possible. I was given the opportunity to spend some incredible time with my Dad working through all of our baggage thus allowing us to end his life as friends as well as father and daughter. I have taken my mothering skills to a whole new level having to help my children understand death. I’ve be shown a whole new way to look at and approach life thanks to the amazing people in my life, both well known and new comers. There have been amazing gifts in this midst of all of this loss and trauma. But the pain has been nearly overwhelming in the process and I cringe to think what could top these past two years.

But again, this is just one more lesson in staying present. Right now. In this very moment. Because whatever comes, I know that somehow, someway, I will find the strength to live it. To keep breathing. To keep putting one foot in front of the other. To keep my eyes open wide to all of the gifts that keep coming regardless of whether they were paid for with laughter or tears.