And then in our book club this past month, we read For One More Day by Mitch Albom. In the beginning section of the book, Albom asks the question...

Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go through your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back. What if you got it back?

My grandmother and I were very close. I spent almost every Saturday night with my grandparents. We lived very close to them so it was almost a given that I would go to their house and spend time with them, followed by going to church with them on Sunday where my parents would meet me since we all were active in the same church.

Most Saturday nights were spent watching Hee Haw, followed by Lawrence Welk, and then we'd go to the kitchen to have our usual round of root beer or cola, with a couple scoops of ice cream, followed by a straw in the glass. My grandparents were the coolest because they actually bought straws. Then she would usually fry up some canned biscuit donuts dripping with sugar. What I wouldn't give to have a Fry Daddy for one night to make some canned biscuit donuts with my son... he would love them! Can you even buy a Fry Daddy anywhere?

But one Saturday night a month we usually went to their friend's home. The Grabau's were great friends of my grandparents and they always enjoyed a great game of pinochle, good coffee and wonderful bundt cakes or a made from scratch dessert that Ruth would always make. I didn't play cards with them. I just sat and watched Lawrence Welk and Hee Haw there at Carl and Ruth's house, but it sure didn't bother them to take me along. That's just what I did. I just joined them in whatever they were doing.

My grandmother was the church secretary at the church we attended and on many days off of school, or during the summer, I would join her in the office at church. I would help her crank the ditto machine (yes, I'm aging myself there) helping her "run the bulletin" for Sundays. I would alphabetize the offering envelopes for her, and I would also record the Sunday school records for her. It was an important job, and one that I loved doing with her. I've always wanted to be a church secretary, even though I know they don't alphabetize the offering envelopes anymore. But my grandmother was a woman that I looked up to, and I always wanted to be like her.

So as my book club was discussing who they would spend one more day with, some of the women had not lost anyone very close to them. And I was so envious of them. To not have to think about having one more day with someone yet - that is truly amazing.

Losing someone so very dear and close to me has taught me to live life each day just a little bit better. Not as if it's your last, but as if you want to make all those moments count.

I found this quote from an article that I was reading and it fit well with my feelings and what I am trying to write about, but didn't quite say it as well as this:

"We often fantasize about a perfect day - something exotic and far away. But when it comes to those people we miss, we desperately want one more familiar meal, even one more argument. What does this teach us? That the ordinary is precious. That the normal day is a treasure."

Have a wonderful Monday!