2/6/45

I’ve been thinking a lot about my mother-in-law lately. Part of that is because we are in the process of selling the remainder of her belongings. That’s a huge process, and each item does have its share of memories. Even though I don’t find myself particularly attached to the items we are selling, I do think of Barb when I see those items. I smile or a shake my head at those memories. I miss her.

Selling belongings

Finding Barb's treasures

Barb's shelves that were always full of trinkets

It’s Barb’s birthday today. Her birth date, 2/6/45, has become ingrained in my memory. At every doctor’s appointment and every trip to the pharmacy, and there were MANY, that all important date was requested. It rolled off my tongue with ease. It got to the point where I would sometimes think of her birth date before I thought of my own, on those rare occasions when I found myself at my own appointment. I admit that I got tired of going to doctor’s appointments with Barb; but while I didn’t always want to go, I always wanted to be a part of her conversations with her doctors. I knew the questions I wanted answered at her appointments, the things I wanted Barb to know, and the way to take care of her and keep her cheerful while we did the things we had to do. I knew I had an important role in her health. There are times when I feel that I messed that up during the last week of her life, that I should have pressed harder for answers about her decreased oxygen levels when we saw the doctor just three days before her death. There are times when I wonder. There are times, like today….

Today, Barb would have been 72. While Barb only made it to 71, Les passed at age 73. As I sit here at 57 years old, I think of 71 or even 73 as very young ages! Les told us repeatedly that he never wanted to turn 70. He didn’t want to have the problems that can go along with aging. He was clinically depressed and had a hard time finding joy in the midst of the trials he faced. Barb, on the other hand, wanted a lot more years; at least, sometimes she did. There were times when she would talk about living as long as my friend Dr. Woolner, who died at the age of 102. However, her body was working against her – oh, and she was working against her body as well. It always seemed unlikely that she would make it to 80, but I thought maybe 75? I don’t know. To have her gone at age 71 seems wrong, as wrong as losing Les at 73. I simply wasn't ready for either of them to be gone yet.

Barb and Les in their younger days.

My brothers Jon and Don on their 70th birthday

I have three brothers who have passed the 70 landmark, and they are all still VERY young. How is that possible? Well, genetics plays a part, I am sure, as does their general willingness to keep working and moving even while somewhat retired. I have found that “retired” doesn’t mean the same thing that it used to, or that I thought it might when I was younger. Most of the folks I know “retire” only to work another job or volunteer extensively. It seems like very few people retire completely anymore. I see people traveling more and making time for grandchildren. I see lives lived well and long. I would love to follow in that pattern. Maybe that’s how I best honor the memory of Les and Barb, by cherishing the aging process and doing it the best I can.

We are planning a trip to Alabama during my spring break this year. We will see our Traff family, spending time with R.J.’s brothers as we deliver Les and Barb’s dining room table to the youngest brother. It’s kind of a spontaneous trip. We just decided that it would be a good idea for Chris to have that table and a good idea for us to take a trip. R.J. and I have stayed close to home for the past couple of years, seeing to Barb’s needs. We are ready to stretch our wings a bit and travel. We are ready to soar – well, while sitting in a car for a lot of miles. We are ready.

Happy birthday, Barb. Wish you were here. I love you.

Barb, enjoying life as a grandma, just last August