Yesterday was an interesting Thanksgiving. We don't have much family around--except for some cousins and extended family on my husband's side--so we went to Eric's Aunt Joanie and Uncle Bruce's house. We brought my sister's mother-in-law's famous creamed corn (which isn't nearly as bad as it sounds--it's actually the highlight of most meals).
I like Eric's family. We had a good time. The food was great. We played games after dinner while Eric watched the Cowboys game. We ate pie.
After a while sitting around and talking and letting our stomachs settle, we got on the topic of videotapes. Aunt Joanie--an avid camera/video camera person if I ever knew one--said she had some video tapes with Miranda on them. We pored through her plastic baggies of labeled video tapes with any months that Miranda was alive, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
I often thought after the funeral that I'd much rather have a photo someone dug up of Miranda than a bouquet of flowers or plant. The flowers die--rather quickly. The plants die--it takes longer, but they still do, especially since I have Eric in charge of watering them while I visit home for a month every summer. But just to have another glimpse of her. Because that's all that's left. But even better than a still picture is a video image of her moving--alive and moving and real.
So I sat on Joanie's bed last night and watched video tapes and Miranda came alive for me--for a while. I saw videotaped footage of the night of the Harry Potter party--ten days before the accident--when we were walking around the Barnes & Noble. Miranda was so wobbly. I forgot how recently she had learned to walk before the accident, wearing a pair of sandals I still haven't found. I saw footage of her playing with a wand we made. I was holding her, so close I wished I could just have that night back. Just hold her one more time. But all I had was a rewind button.
I left last night with red eyes. Joanie was worried I would be upset. Of course I would cry. I got back another glimpse of her I didn't have last night.
It's hard on a day that I'm supposed to be so grateful to not hate everything about life. To not be bitter I only got 15 months with her. It's hard to be thankful that I got those 15 months. It could have been 13 or 12 or 2. I'm trying to remember to be thankful, but it's hard.
