As you read in Tuesday’s post, my friend Sarah and I visited the 9/11 museum a few weeks ago.  At the entrance was a huge photo of the lower Manhattan skyline approximately 20 minutes before the first plane hit.  There were audio recordings of what people remembered they were doing when the planes hit.  Pulling up to work in their car.  Washing clothes.  Grocery shopping.  Normal, everyday stuff.  And then…BAM.  Everything changed.

What struck me as I listened was how vivid the small details were.  How blue the sky.  Exactly what time it was when they heard.  What clothes they were wearing.  Things you’d think wouldn’t matter at all.  And yet that’s what they remembered.

Then today I listened to an old podcast with Brene Brown talking about her research.  She was speaking about people who had experienced horrific loss – like those who lost loved ones on 9/11.  Then she said this:

“When I asked them what was the hardest loss, they never talked about the extraordinary things.  They said, ‘I miss the ordinary moments. I miss hearing the screen door slam and knowing my husband’s home from work.  I miss the way my wife set the table.’ And those are the moments that are in front of us every day, that we could stop and be grateful for.”

(c) Kathleen Thompson. 9/11 Museum

It’s funny, because about a week ago, I was thinking about what I miss most about Jerry.  And it wasn’t the extraordinary things either.  It was the little things.  The everyday things.  I even wrote a song about it.  Here are some of the words:

You were standing at the dining room window waving me good-bye.
Like you did ‘most every morning as I turned out of the drive.
One of those little rituals that celebrate our love.
Like linking toes under the table.  Hunting shells at Cockle Cove.

There were several I didn’t mention in the song.  Favorite phrases.  Writing funny tags and putting them on our Christmas gifts.  I could go on, but I won’t.

I’m sure every person who lost a loved one in 9/11 or its aftermath misses little things about that person too.  Because little things add up to big things.  It’s almost like that’s where our real feelings for one another leak out.  It’s easy to gear up for something big – a special birthday, anniversary, or promotion.  It’s a lot harder to consistently do little things that show how much we care.  That’s why we miss them so much when they’re gone.

Here’s the funny part:  some of what we miss are things we didn’t love that much while they were here.  And now that they’re gone, we see it was just part of what made them the quirky, fallible, lovable person they were.

How about noticing and appreciating the little things about the people in your life right now?  The lovable, cute, ridiculous, tiny things that make them who they are.  Like, they only take out the garbage when wearing their leather slippers.  They forget where they put their keys.  They always save the last cookie for you.  Or, they never leave the house without kissing you.

And what little things can you do for others to show them you care?  Because that’s what people will remember when you’re gone.  What you did every day; not once a year. Or a decade.

It’s the little things that make us feel at home.
All the little things we miss when they’re gone.
Precious moments that so quickly fade away… it’s the little things.

What little things do you remember about someone you loved?  Share in the comments.