Getting By

Today is not my favorite anniversary. On this day one year ago, I lost a member of my family. And today, in order to honor Lindsay Weiss, her parents suggested we make this a day to remember Lindsay. Family and friends from all across the country (and even the world) are spending today doing things that honor Lindsay in some way. Right now, her parents are probably sitting in their backyard, welcoming local friends and family who flocked there to remember Lindsay. Earlier, Jon, her father, did a workout at a place where Lindsay used to run cross country. Her brother Matt swam, to celebrate how Lindsay used to love triathlons. And her mother Alicia created, making a diorama and some soup.

Lindsay loved projects. One of her last was to make a nursery for my nephew, Wilson. "Make" isn't even the proper word there. This was a project the way building the Hoover Dam was a project. Lindsay created an amazing room, complete with everything a baby would need, including books and furniture and toys and enough clothing to get him through his third birthday. And though Lindsay passed away three months before Wilson's birth, I'd like to think he at least feels her presence in that room every time he's in there. He'll never meet her, but she will always be a part of his life.

On November 2, 2009, I got the news that Lindsay had left us the night before. I spent that day crying more than I ever have in my life. And I haven't gotten through today (or this post) without my fair share of tears. But I am trying to make this day about celebrating the life Lindsay had, instead of the one she'll never know. 

My contribution to this day of celebrating Lindsay is minimal. I couldn't come up with any plan. I don't think I'm quite the lover of projects that Lindsay was, though I do believe that she would think Watching Oprah is a pretty funny--and demanding--project. So maybe I would get her approval on that one. I guess all I have to offer are words. They're not much, but they'll have to do for now. When Wilson gets old enough to understand, I'll tell him about his Aunt Lindsay. And though Merritt never had any connection to Lindsay (other than me), I'll tell him about her, too.

She was taken from us far too soon; she should be reading those books in Wilson's room to him, and she should be meeting Merritt and deciding what cute outfit she wants to buy or make for him next. But since she can't do those things, I'll have to do my best. It won't be easy. She was tiny--I had at least six inches on that girl--but I still don't know if I'm a big enough person to fill the shoes she left behind.