36

For some strange reason, the stars are aligning and making me consider the number 36. M's father was 36 when he died. Today, Aug 31st, is the 10th anniversary of Princess Diana's death in 1997. She was 36. I happen to be simultaneously DVR'ing a show on Princess Diana and a cheesy movie about a girl who finds herself in her 30s. We are also about to embark on our trip to commemorate M's father, J, to Canada on our trip and I am thinking about a special gift to leave at J's gravesite. Not to mention that both M and I are in our early 30s. So I'm thinking a lot about the number 36.

When J was 36 he had a 10 year old son. M and I have been together, collectively, for over 14 years. We could easily have a 10 year old child. But for many reasons, that was never in the cards. And now, post-miscarriage of course, I'm wondering why. Rationally... intellectually there are tons of reasons why. M was in flight school, then flying for the airlines, then I went to law school and did the big law firm gig for awhile. Then I switched careers. And all of a sudden here we are... in our 30s. Where did the time go?! Sure, we've moved 12 times in our 7 years of marriage (11 moves in the first 5 years). We were busy. But were we really too busy?

Don't get me wrong, I don't regret a single thing M and I have done in our lives together. We've travelled all over the world. We've seen and done things lots of folks our age aren't normally able to do. And we've created an incredible bond that is literally unbreakable. We've both come to realize that this miscarriage is part of the tapestry of our marriage, it always will be. But when you take time... give pause to think about where you will be in a few years... versus where your parents were at your own age. It does make you wonder.

J was incredibly, and I mean *incredibly*, mature and responsible for his age. J left his 10 year old son with life insurance and an inheritance sufficient for M to pursue higher education, private for the most part, post-mortem. He left him with a strong memory and an even stronger set of morals and values than I have (and both of my parents are still alive). When M recants stories of what his dad did, on VERY little sleep for the 10 years they were together, as a single parent no less, I am seriously awed by it. J instilled in M the kind of strength, maturity and character I measure every man, every human, against. (which is why I could never find another man as amazing as M, truly) It's really incredible what he did from the time he was 26 until he died. And M remembers every moment with unbelievable clarity.

I don't really know what the point of this post is. All I know is that I strive to be the kind of person, and parent, J was. And the funny thing is... I never met him. But to leave the kind of legacy that he did when he was only 36 years old is a feat I can't even fathom. I can only honour it and hope that my kids say the same thing about me when they're 36.