How will my children remember me?

I just finished reading an incredible memoir in graphic novel by Tyler Feder. The book is called Dancing at the Pity Party. Feder chronicles her journey in grief after losing her mother to uterine cancer when she was nineteen. This book has both humor and heartbreak as Feder paints the beautiful relationship that she had with her quirky, funny, extremely creative mother, her diagnosis of cancer, her physical decline and ultimately her demise. There is nothing funny in death but Feder’s mother found ways to keep her girls smiling even through extreme grief. After her death, Tyler, her two younger sisters and their father need to relearn to live life without the bright, shining light that was their mother.

Tyler Feder remembers the memories she created with her mother. And this made me think how my children will remember me when I am gone. Don’t get me wrong, I do not plan to go anywhere for a long time if it is in my hands. But there will be an ‘after me’ and what memories will my children have when they think of mom.

My fondest memories of my mother is our reading time together. And seeing her laugh. Her laughter did not remain just in her face, it traveled to her eyes and eventually to her whole body. She laughed with her whole being and it is the most beautiful visual I have of her in my mind’s eye.

I will venture to guess what my two kids will remember of their mother:

Numerous trips to the library.

Cuddles and reading books together.

Whenever Sean traveled, our tradition was to make kathi rolls and eat them sitting on the kitchen floor Indian style.

Many hours spent petting Sage. Many, many hours of laughter over Sage’s antics.

Buying burgers and fries from the concession stand in the ball fields and eating on the grass watching a little league baseball game.

Eating dinner in the back deck while solving the problems of the world. Now that I think about it, our dinner time conversations were always very deep.

My gullibility? My first reaction to a comment is to believe it. “Really?” “No, mom. That was a joke.”

Listening to music together in the car while driving to sports events.

Days of making quick pesto pasta for dinner due to lack of time (and planning).

Alu bhaja and patla dal.

Being a sounding board.

Yelling/nagging.

Also laughing (and not being able to stop).

I don’t know if I will be remembered as a shining light. I hope to be remembered as a constant light. I want them to remember me as “Mom was there when I needed her.”