106 Memories: A Reminder of What Truly Matters

A few weeks ago, one of my college roommates passed away after an 18-month battle with cancer.

Even writing those words still feels surreal.

She was one of those women who simply lit up a room. Beautiful bright blue eyes that twinkled when she smiled. A former collegiate cheerleader. Brilliant. Stylish. Magnetic. The kind of woman who made everyone feel seen, heard, special, and loved.

To know her truly was to love her.

She leaves behind a beautiful family - her husband, three children, four grandchildren, and one more grandbaby on the way.

The loss has been deeply felt not only by her family, but by an entire community of people whose lives were brighter because she was in them.

At her celebration of life, each of her children and her husband spoke so beautifully about who she was. Their words stayed with me long after the service ended.

They spoke about how intentional she was with her relationships.

How she made time for one-on-one moments with each of them.

How she always knew what they needed - sometimes advice, sometimes listening, and sometimes simply someone to sit quietly beside them,  or a ‘snuggle’ to hold them through hard moments.

They talked about her love for chocolate chip cookies and how they were always waiting when they came home.

Her love for gathering.

Her gift for making people feel important.

But more than anything, they spoke about experiences.

Family trips.

Travel.

Shared memories.

Being together.

Her son shared something that caused me to pause and sat with me long after the celebration.

The day she passed away, he walked downstairs of their family home and stood in front of a wall in their basement covered with framed photos from family vacations over the years.

He counted them.

There were 106.

One hundred and six captured moments of laughter, adventures, traditions, and time spent together.

And through tears, he laughed as he apologized for every time he rolled his eyes or complained when his mom insisted on taking “the family photo.”

That image has stayed with me.

Long after the flowers faded and everyone returned to everyday life.

Because it made me reflect on my own life.

On what we prioritize.

On how quickly time moves.

On what remains when we are gone.

I realized that while we absolutely traveled as a family, much of it revolved around sports tournaments and schedules. We had our annual family vacations, but if I’m being honest, I often wished we had made more room for experiences simply for the joy of being together.

My husband was raised by hardworking parents who “never missed a day of work”. Taking PTO felt irresponsible to him for many years. Work ethic mattered deeply.

And while I understood that mindset, I also recognize now that I often stayed quiet about what mattered to me.

Not because anyone silenced me.

But because I was raised to keep the peace and not rock the boat.

Thankfully, life, growth, coaching, and therapy have taught me that my voice matters too.

And what I’ve come to realize is this:

It’s never too late to adjust the sails.

That phrase has been sitting heavily - and beautifully - on my heart these past few weeks.

Because life is not about perfection.

It’s about awareness.

About noticing what matters while we still have time to lean into it.

Three years ago, after our children got married, something began shifting for me. I started prioritizing experiences more intentionally. Weekend getaways. Time away together. Family gatherings. Shared memories.

And now, with my husband nearing retirement, he is completely on board.

We’re adjusting the sails together.

And as for the photos?

I’ve always loved documenting our memories. We have annual family photo books and years ago we created what we lovingly called our “Wall of Fame” filled with photos of family and friends.

Over time many of the photos faded, so we took them down intending to reprint them.

And now?

Because of my friend, my inspiration, my angel quietly guiding me from above - they’re going back up.

There will be more gatherings.

More short trips.

More photos.

More laughter.

More moments worth remembering.

Because at the end of the day, I don’t believe we are remembered for the money in our accounts or the things we accumulated.

I believe we are remembered for how we loved.

How we gathered.

The memories we created.

The way we made people feel.

And maybe that’s the real legacy.

Not perfection.

Not productivity.

But presence.

I hope we all give ourselves permission to lean more fully into the people and moments that matter most. 💜