Somewhere along the line, I lost my love of life. When I think back to the young woman I was during my years at Michigan State, I can’t help but wonder what happened. I was always planning a new adventure, whether another study abroad program, participating in Alternative Spring Break, or internship/co-op opportunities, not to mention various part-time positions (paid and unpaid) I held while on campus, among many other experiences. No, I am not that young anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go after what I want out of life.
Unfortunately, over the last decade or so, I began to doubt myself and question everything. It no longer matters how or why, what matters now is that I get back to pursuing what I love. Now, I must figure out precisely what that looks like. There is so much work to do.
A couple of weeks ago, my aunt, my mom, and I went through several drawers of my grandmother’s memorabilia – family photographs, cards, letters, newspaper clippings, and more. One thing stood out above everything else: Grandma lived her life to the fullest, even in the face of tragedy. How I wish I could talk to her now. Today is the first anniversary of her death. Tomorrow would mark her 93rd birthday. There is so much I wish I could ask her.
When I think of all the legacies left behind, it is her love of life that stays with me the most. She did exactly what she wanted to do and how she wanted to do it. My dad, her youngest son, did the same. Both passed that on to me. I am just as stubborn as well. Now to figure out what’s next. I am far from where I was five years ago, but I am not yet where I need to be.