Being Unforgettable

"Don't forget me," said Mimi as I hugged her good bye.

 I had been able to stuff down my tears the entire day, but her words shattered my resilience.  She had requested that people didn't say things to make her cry, and that she didn't want to say good bye. She thought this whole ordeal of knowing that you were going to die was quite cruel, and made it clear that she didn't want to think about it.   But I had to get on a plane, and in that moment that we both knew would be our last together, we couldn't help ourselves.

"You've made me who I am today Mimi. I could never forget you."

She nodded, accepting the weight and truth of my tear soaked words. "I need you to know how much I love you, and that you have always made me feel beautiful and loved and cherished."

"I know. I know." She said gently, looking straight into my eyes. She diverted her gaze to her dresser across the room, "Now stop."

"I will. I love you Mimi." I let go of her hand that I knew so well, walked down the stairs, and cried for all the moments ahead that I wouldn't have her with me. I wept for all the life we had shared for the last 29 years. The good, the bad, the big and the small. I cried for the pain and fear she had now that I couldn't take away.

Mimi is certainly unique, but that is not what makes her unforgettable.  The connection she built with me, memory by memory, makes her a part of who I am. She has helped shape the way I think about myself and the world. She is a co-writer of my story.

Week-long visits over the summer, yearly vacations to Graeagle with the whole family, holidays, birthdays, whatever-days.  My memory is filled with nights snuggled together on the couch watching movies; waking up to the smell of eggs and pancakes before rushing down to find her in her purple robe and slippers. Long days at Great America with hot dogs for lunch...animal keys at the zoo...even a dance party in a limo bus. The list goes on and on.  The stories I could tell are endless.  One particularly funny time started with: "I have to put my feet in the sand in Rosarito." The tale includes a 3-hour senior citizen bus tour down to Mexico, being rescued by strangers on an ATV from a beach sandstorm, and Mimi happily having tequila poured down her throat like a feisty college student.  So many times and in so many ways, we got to share life together.

Mimi is not perfect.  Our chapters together were filled with both love and conflict.  She could insult you one second and hug you the next.  Profanity was deemed appropriate anytime, anywhere. There are certainly many "what the?!?" stories I could tell.  But I know that Mimi doesn't want me to forget those either.  We learn from each experience, and grow through our relationships.  Mimi's roots run deep, and I am grateful that I got to reassure her of just how unforgettable she is.

This week close your eyes and breathe in the details of life--the feeling of sun on your skin, the smell of cool fresh air, the taste of something delicious, the sound of beautiful music--its a tribute to this great woman who always remembered to enjoy the small things.