Instead of writing one big post about our trip, I’ve decided to write several observations and reflections that happened while we spent our week in Captiva. It was an amazing trip, filled with mostly great moments.
Focusing on the future, never forgetting the past.
As the sun slowly set upon the gulf our first night, I stared at my two children while the waves hit their feet. Each time a wave came in, they’d squeal in delight. Watching my children experience the ocean for the first time was something that I will not soon forget. It was beautiful and bittersweet, joy and grief intricately woven into the fabric of my life.
Every morning, the kids and I would walk along the beach looking for mommy’s special shell. We’d find shells along the way that we thought were pretty, each time we’d declare that THIS was mommy’s special shell. Eventually, we’d find the perfect one.
What I didn’t tell the kids was that each shell I placed in our bag had a story, a memory of mommy. A memory we could use to make us happy once we were back in St. Louis. Every day is a struggle for us and the pain of losing Laura is still very deep. On the tough days, I’ll pull a shell out and tell a story about mommy – maybe it’s how mommy found beauty in all things, even the broken ones or how the pink hues remind us how much she loved us.
We found a lot of shells – smooth ones, colorful ones, twisty ones, rough ones, even broken ones.
Each shell has a story, a memory to be cherished forever and never forgotten.