Why do we pause in our lives for reflection when someone has died, or when we’ve reached some milestone like a birthday or certain number of years of something? Why are we not present with each other, with our children, with our family and friends every day? I am as guilty of this as anyone, caught up in work or on my phone or scanning social media… I’m watching my own kids transform before my eyes and find myself making new life decisions, wishing I could retrieve what I might have missed.

We’re in Louisville this weekend, celebrating the life of Neil’s father, Richard Andersen. Richard passed away on May 15th after a long battle with alcoholism and it has been a few weeks of reflection for all of us. My father-in-law lived with us for about 7 months a couple of years ago and I learned more about him as a person during that time than I did in the previous 17 years of knowing him. He battled his demons for sure, as we all do, but he was kind; generous with his time and talents (the man could fix or build anything you asked him to); he could walk perfectly silently – and startled me on more than one occasion; he was a considerate house guest; a fun grandfather; he was a free-spirit and an outdoorsman. I imagine Richard now, likely barefoot on a beach and most certainly fiercely tan, holding a glass of unsweet iced tea and smiling his best crinkly-eyed smile.

We’re in a hotel these four days, the five of us, which the kids think is such a novelty. Neil said to me today that he really enjoys hanging out with our children. Not just taking care of them, actually hanging out with them. They are each such special and unique persons. So as I reflect on Richard’s life, as I reflect on relationships with my husband and children, my family and friends, I am truly striving to be more present and more observant every day. I don’t want to miss a minute of it.