The beauty of ordinary moments
We often remember the big milestones in life—a marriage, the birth of a child, graduations—but it’s the little, everyday moments that we tend to take for granted.
This is the post I’ve been avoiding.
It might not seem like that big of a deal, but if you’ve lost someone you loved deeply, you’ll understand.
There are so many things I miss about Jody. Her smile. The way she loved me. Her laugh.
But one of the things I miss the most is talking about her hair.
Jody was always experimenting with new hairstyles and colors. She loved her stylist, Sandy, and would come home from the salon in a great mood, but within a few weeks, she’d say something like, “I think I want to do something different with my hair.”
She’d gather photos from online or catalogs, showing Sandy the latest looks she wanted to try. And much of the time, Sandy would have to gently tell her, “Jody, that’s a wig.”
Jody would come home with her fresh new style, and I quickly learned that the right response was always to tell her how good it looked—which, honestly, it usually did.
But then, just as often, she’d try to recreate it herself, and couldn’t quite get it right. I’d say, as kindly as I could, “Honey, I think you’re asking a little too much of your hair.”
Yet there were times when she nailed it, and on those days, she’d ask me to take pictures or video of her hair. It was the cutest thing, and I loved it.
So, I miss talking with her about her hair. Listening to her excitement, affirming her choices, really being present in those little conversations. They seemed so small, but they meant so much to me.
I’ve heard from others who’ve lost loved ones that what they miss most are the mundane, everyday moments. What I miss are things like sitting together on the sofa while she watched TV and I did crossword puzzles, or hearing her pretend to be annoyed by yet another one of my dad jokes.
Or talking about her hair.
We often remember the big milestones in life—a marriage, the birth of a child, graduations—but it’s the little, everyday moments that we tend to take for granted. And it’s those small moments that we miss so much once they’re gone.
All we have is today. That’s something I’ve learned this year. It’s not about wishing for what we don’t have, but being grateful for what we do. And cherishing those quiet, ordinary moments that, in the end, make a life well-lived.
About Paul
If you've navigated the complexities of love, loss, or life's unpredictable twists and turns, this blog is for you. Paul, who was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease in 2022 and lost his beloved Jody in 2024, is also a father, new grandfather and a speaker/writer. Paul writes to make sense of the world around him, sharing his personal journey through grief, Parkinson’s, and life's challenges. With a mix of lightheartedness, thoughtfulness, and unwavering authenticity, Paul offers a relatable and heartfelt perspective on the human experience. His writing is often described as warm, genuine and deeply moving.