It's Okay, I'll Try Again Tomorrow

This morning I stepped outside at 5:30 for my usual morning walk. I knew it was a chilly 50 degrees before I stepped outside, but I was surprised by the wind and the miserable spritzing rain.


But I didn't let the rain and cold and the wind stop me.


I headed first to my neighbor's who I had noticed had recently planted some new flowers that I was anxious to take pictures of.


I took about three pictures and then my camera battery died.


Oh well, I said. I'll try again tomorrow.


I was supposed to meet my dad at the Wetlands after church, around 9 am, but when I got in the car to go to church, I saw it was still cold, still windy and rainy, so I texted my dad who asked for a "rain check."


Oh well, I said, I'll run some errands instead.


So after church, I headed to Target and Publix and on the way home, my "low tire pressure" warning light came on.


So I took the car to Tire Kingdom where they discovered a nail and said they were swamped today.


Oh well, I said, I'll bring it back tomorrow and hope I don't have to call AAA before I do.


Things comes up. Little things, big things that force us to change our plans. Sometimes that means trying again tomorrow. Sometimes that means a major course correction in your life. Sometimes there is no tomorrow.


Five years ago … five years … I can't believe it's been that long … five years ago today, my mom called me from the hospital to tell me they had found a mass on her pancreas.


November 17.


She would die seven weeks later on January 5.


I miss her. I miss her every day. I was telling people today that the hardest thing is that I have no one to share memories of her with. There are no relatives left. I have no brother or sister or cousin or aunt or uncle that I can call and say, "Hey, remember when Mom did this?"


So I will keep her memory alive here as best I can and share some of those memories with you. And maybe one day, you'll say to me, "Hey remember the time your mom did this?"


Here's one of my favorite car stories involving my mom.


When I was a teenager, my mom drove a fire engine red Dodge Charger. It was a mess, quite possibly a sibling of Stephen King's Christine. It had two doors, one of which was missing a handle and the other you had to pull just right to get the door to open and yes we discovered this one day when I accidentally shut the one working door with the engine still running.


One time, the car was acting up and Mom pulled over at a gas station to take a look under the hood. She wasn't a mechanic so I'm not sure what she expected to see. I'm sure she didn't expect the battery to spray acid all over her, burning holes into her clothes.


The car also a wonky horn that would go off randomly. I would be dreaming about a car horn only to wake up and find Mom's car screaming from the driveway in the middle of the night.


Or we would be driving on the highway and the horn would go off and people would drive by and stare at us and Mom would look and point to another car like it was someone else's car farting loudly at 55 mph.


I always said that my mom helped me keep perspective on life and the crazy things that happen.


No one had a crazier life than she did, but she still got up every morning (or sometimes afternoon), still pressed on and lived … until she died.


I've been saying this a lot lately, but treasure your family stories. Write them down. Share them. One day they may be all that you have left.