by Sandy Fox

This past week I have been in Maui. I love Hawaii and so did my daughter Marcy. We first brought her here in 1980. She loved the beach, playing in the sand and particularly picking up shells from the ocean. She continued to visit here. One time when she was older, we took her boyfriend with us; another time we took her grandmother. We eventually purchased a condo to stay in when on the island. Her last trip here was with her soon to be husband in 1993. They loved it and vowed to return. It was never to be. She died 5 months after her wedding in October 1993 in a horrific car accident. I often think of her when I am here…a younger Marcy, running free in the sand and water, lying on the pristine beaches, and picking up those seashells she was so fond of.

I pick up those seashells now as I walk along the beach. Yesterday, I saw a young girl walking towards me…a reminder of Marcy in those tiny bikinis that looked so great on her slim but perfectly curved body. The young girl runs after a dog into the ocean waters, laughing, her brown hair bouncing in the sunlight, her laughter infectious as the dog gets soaked by the currents. I stop short, close my eyes. Emotions overwhelm me, and when I finally open them again, the girl and the dog are far down the beach chasing each other. They are but a brief reminder of another life, another time, one tucked far down into my heart forever.

We get moments like this any day of the year, any hour, any minute. It is not only a moment in time, but it can also be a song that reminds us of our child, an anniversary, a birthday, a beautiful sunset, or an activity enjoyed together. Embrace those moments. They are for you alone. You will never forget them nor will you ever forget your child. And you never should.

We all have rushes of emotions that can be overwhelming when we least expect it. This does not mean we will not heal, will not continue to move forward with our lives. We are different people now than we were when our child was alive. We have different goals; different friends; different priorities and hopefully, eventually, a life with a new richness to it that focuses on what our children left us…the gift of having them.