A year ago we were in North Carolina, so my dying MIL could meet our children. She died just hours after we left.
I remember that her death affected me, in no small part because I feared my own death and leaving my children without a mother. My MIL didn't have much time between her diagnosis and her death, and I remember her saying that she wanted to share the stories before she died. Unfortunately, she quickly became wracked with pain and needed to take heavy doses of medication and was unable to share those stories that meant so much to her.
I resolved that week to write to my children -- sharing stories, my hopes for them, reflections on life. I'm embarrassed to admit that a year has gone by and I have not even begun to record our lives.
I could list a number of reasons -- but they're just excuses. My MIL didn't have anything at the end of her life, but she did have boxes of pictures. We were unable to bring them to Arizona at the time, and while DH has tried to get them here, I'm beginning to think we haven't tried hard enough. Once again, there are reasons -- but they're not worth much more than excuses.
I don't want another year to pass and have nothing to show for it but excuses. While my life is about to become that much more complicated, priorities have to be set.
I write -- and so a written history is something that I must leave my children. My MIL cherished her photos, and I must ensure that they continue to be cherished.
No more excuses.