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Tell the story, hold onto the memory

Cariel is invested in her birthday party. I mean, wholly invested. Each day we talk about who she wants to invite while trying desperately trying to set the right expectation: just because they’re invited doesn’t mean they’ll come (I don't know how much traction we're making there).
This morning caught me off guard, though, when she asked, “Mommy, can Aunt Sharon come to my birthday party?” Aunt Sharon was my mom’s sister, and Cariel knows her best from the eclectic gifts she always shared. She met her once when we visited Florida, but Cariel was only 18-months old. I’m sure she was connecting Aunt Sharon to fun presents, and thus, a birthday invitation. Typical two-year-old thinking.
My stomach dropped at the thought of having to remind her that Aunt Sharon was no longer alive, but I told her anyway. Her response, “she died like Grandma Carol?”
Stunned that she connected not being alive to dying, I said, “Yes, that’s right.”
“Where are they now?” She asked, well ahead of her time.
“In our hearts,” I told her.
We were onto the next topic quickly, but the moment stayed with me. It was a gentle reminder of why I started this blog: to preserve the memory of my mom and the lasting impact she's had on my life. Cariel knows my mom, and she knows Lou, and she knows my Aunt Sharon. Their memory, and the memories of others that we've lost, are very much alive in our home, and for that, I'm so proud.
I hope (for all our sakes) that we have a full house of kiddos for Cariel's third birthday party, and I look forward to another year of filling her heart with stories about those who shaped me and paved the way for her and her sister.

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