Small Moments

We are eight days into the New Year, but today feels like it’s finally, officially the New Year.  That’s because today is the first day of being “back into the routine.”  Thanks to some sort of crazy polar vortex that sent temperatures well below zero we were the lucky recipients of two extra days of winter break.  Two days where it was too cold to leave the house.  Basically two days of insanity inducing cooped up-ness. 

I was ready to get back into our routine after over two weeks home.  It was fun having Monster around and Toots more than anyone enjoyed having a buddy during the day.  But the holidays were hard and we had a lot of time to just be home missing my dad.  This grieving process is long and difficult and, like most of the truest, deepest life experiences, not straightforward.  It involves a lot of cycling back through emotions you thought you’d overcome, feelings you want to be done with.  These last two and a half weeks were no exception.

Last January I decided to forgo typical resolutions and instead try to center my year on one word, one idea to focus my intention for the year.  In 2013 I tried to abide.  Some days I was better at it than others.

This year I honestly wasn’t really thinking about anything, “one word” wise.  But as 2013 drew to a close and fresh snow ushered in 2014 I heard my “word” clearly and knew there was no denying it.  I read a letter my sweet cousin wrote to my mom about my dad and knew that this year I needed to focus on the idea of “small moments.”

The untimely death of my beloved dad has taught me a lot, much of which I’m still processing and working through.  One lesson immediately obvious in the weeks following his passing has been the idea of “small moments.”

After my dad died so many people shared stories with us about him.  Through notes, emails, cards and in person people said the most wonderful things about my dad.  I learned so much about him after his death.  These were character traits that I’d always known about the man who raised me, but their stories and illustrations brought him to life in a whole new way.  Over and over again people told us of how my dad had helped them, shared kindness or provided comfort in simple, everyday moments.  When people remembered my dad they didn’t talk about the big things he accomplished or any of the “life highlights” he experienced that look good on paper.  Instead they talked about how my dad had helped them out one time, or made them feel better in small, everyday moments.  One old friend shared about how my dad had written him a comforting letter in college when he was homesick and lonely.  Another shared about how my dad comforted her so kindly after her mom caught her with cigarettes in her purse.  He told her everything would be ok and gave her a hug.  People remembered times he greeted them so warmly, treated them so hospitably, made them feel like they were the most important person in the room.

The things about my dad that really stuck with people were moments that I doubt he even really remembered.  Paying attention to others, treating them well, taking time to send that letter, listen to that story, or give that hug were just a part of how he lived day to day.  And yet this was what defined him.  This is why people mourned his death and loved him so well. 

There are the big things we do, the moments we think will define us, the actions we do with a lot of thought and attention because we think that it will be our mark on the world.  But what I’ve discovered in my dad’s passing is that it is the small moments, the daily acts of kindness that we often don’t think twice about that stick with others.  That is what defines our legacy.  My dad lived in those small moments well, so effortlessly and naturally.  In 2014 I want to practice living as my dad did.  I want to pay attention to the small moments and live them well, aware of others and their needs more than my own.

I can get too caught up in the big picture.  What will my career look like?  How can I achieve my big dreams?  When I think about my legacy I often think about the things that will look good on paper, the successes and achievements that are “brag worthy.”  I want to shift that this year.  I want to leave a legacy of small moments of kindness and love.  I want to remain aware of others always and stay present in each and every ordinary, mundane, regular encounter with others.  In 2014 I don’t want to let any opportunities to help, lift up, comfort or love others in the small moments pass by untended.   

And so that is my (two) word(s) for 2014: small moments.