The Moments We Don’t Want to End

As the year draws to a close, I find myself reflecting on the moments that have defined it—not just the days marked by milestones or the months that felt heavy with challenges, but the moments. The fleeting, ordinary-yet-extraordinary flashes of time when the world stands still, and you think, I wish this wouldn’t end.

This year has been harrowing. I faced the unimaginable: learning of my sister’s terminal illness and then, only five months later, saying goodbye to her. Yet, even in the shadow of grief, there were moments so profound, so beautiful, that they illuminated the darkness.

I’ve come to realize that these moments we don’t want to end—whether joyful or bittersweet—are treasures meant to carry us forward. They remind us to live with our hearts open and to find gratitude even amid loss.

A Year of Moments

One of the moments that tops my list was becoming a supernumerary at the Sarasota Opera for the first time. The time commitment was significant, but the friendships I built and the moments shared with fellow “supers” were worth every second. Standing in the wings, playing board games between acts, soaking in the music and camaraderie, I often thought I could stay here forever.

Another was visiting my daughter and her wife in their first home in Virginia Beach. Watching them take this bold step—leaving the familiarity of Illinois—filled me with pride. Seeing their hard work, compromise, and sacrifice come to life in a space they made their own brought me immeasurable joy. It wasn’t just a visit; it was a celebration of who they’ve become. If they weren’t family, I’d choose them as friends a hundred times over.

Then there were the moments with my sister. Oh, how I wish I could stretch those out forever. One stands out—a lunch and shopping day where the hours flew by, and she said, “I feel like me today.” If I could have frozen time, I would have—for her, for us.

But it wasn’t just the good days. Even the hard ones became moments I wanted to hold on to, like sitting with her during chemo treatments or resting at home. These weren’t grand or easy moments, but they were sacred. We would share childhood stories, laugh about our quirks, and sometimes just sit quietly, finding comfort in each other’s presence. I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone in the fight. Those hours, though filled with struggle, were also filled with love—a love that made even the most difficult days meaningful.

A moment that truly took my breath away was when both my daughters traveled to Florida at a moment’s notice to visit their Aunt Mo one last time. It was a gift beyond measure—not only for her but for me. They came to offer love, comfort, and support during one of the toughest periods of my life. Watching them sit by her side, share memories, and remind her of how deeply she was loved will remain one of this year's most poignant and cherished memories.

My sister’s face lit up whenever she talked about or saw her only grandchild, Preston Daniel. And the book we created together in her final weeks was another gift. It captured her life’s wisdom, humor, and love in the form of her signature sayings—her Monique-isms. It became a legacy, a way for her light to continue shining long after she was gone.

My uncle also endured a loss this year, saying goodbye to his wife of 56 years. There are so many moments I didn’t want to end with him and my aunt over the years, but now I deeply cherish our one-on-one time together. We’ve already captured moments I will treasure forever in two trips to visit him.

One that stands out is his bucket list wish to see a grand opera at The Met in New York City. There has never been a way to properly thank my aunt and uncle for all they’d done for me and our family, and yet, there it was—a wish that we could easily make happen for him. I am certain that the Aida opera we will take him to in April 2025 will top the list of moments we won’t want to end next year.

Finally, as the year wound down, I gathered our children and their partners to surprise my husband on his milestone birthday. Our kids all live in different states, each pursuing their own paths and careers, so getting them all together is a rare and cherished gift. Seeing them reconnect, laugh, and enjoy each other’s company filled my heart to the brim. My husband's look of pure joy and disbelief when they shouted, “Surprise!” was unforgettable. And the tears that welled up when his son gifted him tickets to see Glengarry Glen Ross on Broadway—a callback to a cherished childhood memory they both shared—reminded me how deeply moments of love and connection anchor us.

Watching our family together, seeing the bonds we held despite the miles and the time apart, was one of those moments I didn’t want to end.

Finding Meaning in the Fleeting

As much as we want these moments to last, they inevitably slip through our fingers. But instead of mourning their end, what if we let them guide us? What if we carried their essence into our days, using them to inspire us to create more of what we cherish?

This year has taught me to hold these moments close—not with a grip that tries to stop time but with a heart that says, Thank you. These moments remind us of what truly matters. They whisper to us that even amid the chaos, beauty and connection endure.

So, as one year closes and another begins, take stock of your own moments. The laughter you don’t want to end. The conversations that feel like home. The hugs that linger. Acknowledge, savor, and let them inspire you to create a life rich with memories that matter.

Because while moments may be fleeting, their impact lasts forever.