I forgot to post yesterday, argh. I'll try to make up for it.

Randomly, I think yesterday, I was wondering if I would have acted differently in the past few years if Maria were still alive.

For those of you who don't know who she is, she was my childhood nanny from the time I was one and a half (and my brother when he was 20 minutes old) or so until I'd say around third grade, when she had a really bad car accident. She'd still babysit every so often until seventh grade, when she passed away suddenly from a heart attack.

She spent the majority of her time with me when both of my parents were working. She immigrated from Germany around the time of the Holocaust, so she always kept her accent. And since I spent so much time around her, I actually picked it up a little and would say my w's like v's. My parents thought it was hilarious. But anyway, basically she was there to always take me to the park and the Galleria Mall. I liked playing on the jungle gym in The Children's Place until the store managers realized that kids would only come to their store for that, so they took it down. My brother and I always enjoyed baking at her house, and to this day I still won't eat raw dough because she always told me to "never eat raw eggs." And when she made us dinner we'd ring the dinner bell she had. Then we'd play checkers and I'd sit on her rocking horse and we'd explore her really cool clothes closet upstairs.

Then when I got older, I would spend most of my time at her house trying to log onto AIM on her slow computer or watching TV. When she'd tried to talk to me, I'd blow her off. I was a rude, moody teenager, and I just had none of anyone's prying in general.

Then she passed away, and I didn't cry. I like to say that the only person close to me who's died is Maria, but I didn't even cry. And I don't know exactly what it was; if I really felt that disconnected from her back then, or if I was in just such disbelief that I couldn't cry. A few years later, sometimes I'd still think about it and not believe that she was really gone. Today, I think it's been long enough for that thought not to cross my mind.

But I learned more about her at her funeral than when she was alive. I've thought about all of the questions I would ask her; I've thought, maybe, that when I was older that maybe we could have gotten really close. She could have been another confidant, another adult to give me advice, and she could have given me first-hand insight to a piece of the past. Now I'll never get that, because I missed my chance. At the same time, I didn't expect her death. None of us did. If she were alive today, she'd be 74 or so. She should have had still so many years ahead of her. And we all know that she probably could have been saved, but she was so selfless that she didn't even want to call anyone to bother them and tell them that she wasn't feeling well.

She was also such a child at heart. It's why she became a nanny and why kids always loved her. She also never got married, and my mom told me a story that once they tried to set her up on a date, and the guy came on a motorcycle and she pretty much flat-out refused to get on. And while there's probably a really good reason for that, and while she probably didn't want to talk about it, I still would have been interested.

She didn't get to see my Bat Mitzvah. Or Josh's Bar Mitzvah. Or my graduation. Or his. She won't get to see our weddings, our kids, just everything that actually matters. She got to see our first firsts, but not our milestones.

I just feel that she was such a pure person. And I think that maybe if we had been close, then maybe I would have thought twice about doing some things. I don't really regret anything, but I just wonder if I would be a better person. If I would be a completely different person. I really do try to be the best person I can be. I try to be kind and good to my friends and family and people, and I try to stay positive and always try to cheer people up. I act within what I think is okay, but I know people would still disapprove of things I've done. And I know that she'd disapprove. And I know my parents would, too, even. But I don't know. It's not that I don't respect my parents, because I do, but there's just something about Maria that seemed so good. That, in being around her and having done things, I would have felt more guilty. Wow, I'm really making myself out to being a terrible person. I don't think things I've done are that bad.

I don't believe in an afterlife, but sometimes I do like to think she's looking down on us, and I feel very solemn whenever I do get the chance to visit her grave. I wouldn't say the event of her death changed my life; but it was simply her not being here that did.

I won't forget her.