I wish I had paid more attention when...

Days fly into weeks and weeks into months. Before I know it, I'm switching out another calendar for a new year. The holidays have passed. Celebrations now memories. I'm left with a nostalgic heart, wishing times like these never ended.

How is it that all the planning and preparation took months, but the day of celebration felt like a few small moments. The anticipation built, but the climax didn't last.

The kids are back in school. Doing their routine. I'm at home. Doing my routine. And all the memories will fade, just like yesterday.

It's moments like these when I wish I'd paid more attention to the small details. Like the smile that crossed my son's face. The laugh of my husband. The way a hug warmed my soul.

When my dad passed away eight years ago, only weeks before the holidays, I remember feeling such a deep sense of loss, that I didn't think the holidays would ever be the same again. As a family, we remembered and cried over past family gatherings, and told stories of our favorite memories. My mom suggested many times that we need to write down our memories of dad, and the stories that he shared, before we forget them. With his loss so fresh, I didn't think I'd ever forget him or the things he did. But time has had a way of filling those memories with new ones. And the layers make the memories more faint.

So, I wish I had paid more attention to the details. The stories. The memories shared. I wish I had written them down. Because now, all I have are vague recollections of the man who is my father. And how am I to teach my children about the amazing man he was, if I can't even remember myself?