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Where is the Wisdom

 


During the past few months, I’ve written stories about my family—things we’ve done together, and how I feel about Christina not being here physically. As I reflect on these memories and emotions, one thing becomes clear: life is full of randomness. There is no master plan.

Of course, we all have goals and dreams—things we’d like to accomplish. To reach them, we imagine paths in our minds; some people write them out as steps or priorities. These paths help us stay focused, but in my experience, the execution of those plans doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It takes place in the shifting ether of everyday life. Our progress is shaped—sometimes redirected—by the environment around us, by the reality of living.

Christina and I had many plans. One recurring fantasy was to take a long holiday together. We often talked about going somewhere warm, where we could simmer our bodies on a white sand beach. Sorry, girls—this fantasy was just for Mom and me. No kids in this dream, which speaks to how deeply personal and intimate it was meant to be.

It’s still hard for my daughters. They were incredibly close to their mother—closer than anyone could imagine. That’s natural. Their lives were forming around her, and she was an exceptional mother.

I can’t fill the vacuum Christina left behind, but I can take a more active role in their lives as they continue to grow. What I hope they understand is that they can still learn from her. Christina lives on in their memories. I don’t mean to delegate their growth to memory alone, but I truly believe that who she was—and what she gave—can continue to inspire them to reach for their goals.

Tomorrow is Christina’s birthday. It will be the third year we celebrate October 24th without her. I’m going to make Chicken Paprikash—her favorite meal. Raquel has been baking a cake since this morning. And I bought a bottle of Tokaji, a classic Hungarian dessert wine, to raise a toast in her memory.

Christina is still undeniably a part of our lives.

When I began writing these stories, my goal was to record my experience of nearly 30 years spent getting to know someone. I’ve ended up writing a few stories about myself, too, though that wasn’t the original plan.

Maybe this post doesn’t need to make sense. It feels like I’m rambling—just writing as if I’m talking to myself in a never-ending monologue. Maybe, in the end, all I’m doing is trying to make sense of what has happened, one day at a time, as I keep moving forward.

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