Been sitting in the swing this morning, watching the glorious morning come alive, thinking how the month of March has always been a roller coaster month of emotions for me. Our daughter, Rosalyn Louise, named after her grandmothers, died in a car accident on March 17, Saint Patrick’s Day, of 2002. Today is the 22nd anniversary of her death. Chief and I would have been married 43 years on March 28, and Chief’s 89th birthday is March 29. I take heart though that Chief and Rosie are together in heaven. And I take heart in the beautiful awakening Spring.

Rosie was 17 years old, finding her place in the world, when a car accident ended her life. She was navigating her freshman year at college. Rosie’s death is still the first and last thing on my mind each day. You never “get over” the pain of losing a child, you just learn in your own way and in your own time how to put one foot in front of the other and keep walking through life. You also learn after many, many years how to live with the pain. You not only have to mourn the child but all the wishes you had for that child and all the family moments that child will be absent. The pain is still just as fresh as the pain of that Sunday morning phone call telling me of her death. Losing a child is one of the most traumatic events a parent can experience. I think Eric Miller sums up a child’s death so accurately — “I feel the weight of these years she will never have and they may yet crush me.”

I’ve been sitting here in the swing for a while now, watching all the birds and squirrels frolicking around in the yard, pondering on what I think Rosie never got to experience as she entered her young womanhood, cut short at 17 years. I realize now when Rosie died I selfishly thought of all the things that her passing would take away from me and our family and I didn’t think about the things she never got to experience. I mourned the loss of grandchildren, the aunt taken away from her brother’s children, the mother-daughter shopping trips with happy restaurant lunches, all the holidays passing without her, not being able to watch her graduate from college, walk down the aisle as a bride, or her hold her first born child.

She was a freshman in college so she’ll never have the satisfaction of holding that degree in her hand. She’ll never fall in love, never break a heart, or have her heart broken. She’ll never marry, never decide to have children. She’ll never lay in the arms of a man who loves and cherishes her. She always told Chief to save up ‘cause she was “having the biggest wedding there had ever been at St. James.” She’ll never know her oldest brother’s children or share secrets with her little brother. She missing all the family cousins’ shenanigans. She’ll never have a social media account to rant and rave on. She would have loved Facebook. She’ll never experience the excitement of her first car or her own home. She’ll never know the outpouring of love and sympathy from family and friends that our family experienced after her death. She’d be so proud of the garden playground at St. James Episcopal Church in Alexander City dedicated in her memory.

I’ve always worried that Rosie would be the relative no one can identify in old family photos. I’m so glad my grandchildren know her from talking about her with me and Stew and their mama and daddy. I’m thankful my grandchildren will remember her from seeing her childhood photos and I know they will identify her in the old family photos for their grandchildren one day. When Alexander was a little boy, he told me, “Aunt Rosie must have been really happy cause she’s always smiling in all her pictures.” So sweet. She was happy, always whistling or singing. We all miss you, Tootie!

March the 28th will be my 43rd wedding anniversary. Chief and I were married here in my family home in front of the fireplace surrounded by family and close friends. We had a formal seated dinner following the ceremony. Such a beautiful night with our families. We spent our honeymoon in the lodge at Mt. Cheaha State Park. We watched a thunderstorm come alive on the mountains the first night, the sky lit with fireworks of lightning. We picnicked Saturday and attended church services on Sunday at Saint Michaels and All Angels Episcopal Church in Anniston. Years later Chief and Rosie stopped by the church on Rosie’s way back to college and found our signature in the church visitors’ book. First time I’d signed us as Tom and Lane Saunders. I remember how excited I was to write our names in the book.

Chief’s 89th birthday will be on March 29. He would be with us now if Covid had not taken him. I miss him so much. Always thought he’d live to be 100. He was 21 years older than me and always told me I’d live here in Roanoke without him. And I’d always tell him I don’t want to live there without you. He’d say, “Mama, when I’m gone, go home to your family. You’ll be fine. You’ll be okay.” I came back to my childhood home three months after he died. I’m crying as I write this. I’m not fine but I’m okay, still trying to learn how to live without him. We were so happy. He was devoted to me and our children and grandchildren. We spent every other weekend here in Roanoke for many, many years and those memories are so precious to me. Those memories get me through the sad days.

We’ve all heard this said a thousand times — “Life is too short, so live it to the fullest.” As I approach another birthday, I realize how fast life really does pass. Life is full of sadness, life is full of surprises, and life is full of beauty and truth. Every moment of life is precious. Tomorrow is never promised and yesterday is gone forever. We need to appreciate every day and live it to the fullest. Do what makes you happy. Surround yourself with people who make you smile and make you laugh. And again, do what makes you happy. And love as long as you live.

“Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace, and gratitude.” — Denis Waitley