Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Memories…

Our daughter, Joslin, died in 1999. She was 20. It still bothers me to say or write the word “died”. Sometimes it still surprises me that she is not part of a family gathering, as I look around at the people. When I am visiting about my family, my mind and heart gropes around for a new Joslin story. Although there are no longer any new ones about her to share, there are new stories being created as we celebrate her and invite the memories and who she is and was to come into our present lives. That’s a good thing, I believe. Sometimes part of the pain of grief is an acknowledgement of the lack of memories you got with your loved one. Death has a way of reminding us of what we got, of what we didn’t get, and what we won’t get.

Here are some examples of what I mean:
*A grand-kitty died this week... Joslin loved animals. I wondered out loud with my granddaughter if Joslin got to play with Sleepy now, in heaven. (For those of you who are wondering, that might not have been a helpful thing, as Kasi glared at me and said, “That’s NOT fair!”).
*A birthday party for a grand-nephew… A wedding for a niece… I think of how Joslin loved to be part of parties and fun. We miss the opportunities to fit Joslin into the special memories as they are created.
*A snow day yesterday… I remembered the countless times my children and I made cookies and watched movies on such a day. I missed my children, all of them, and the years when they were young and in my care. I look at the snow and I remembered the fun we had when we lived by a hill we could slide down on our sleds. I remember all the times Joslin and I had to deal with snow issues when she was fighting the cancer beast.
*I anticipate a family vacation in a few weeks… Acknowledging that if I could have one wish, it would be to have my family complete, with our dear Joslin physically there with us. My tears remind me of how special and unique Joslin is, and each one of us is.
*I made chili… remembering the times we made food together and all gathered around the soup bowl to spend some good time together. I thought of the foods and treats each one of my children liked to make and liked to eat. Oh yes, and I thought of those foods which became stories about the horrors of Jo’s cooking. I laughed and cried.

Memories… they make me smile and they make me sad.
Such a sweet and sour dish we are served in our grief.

I have been changed since Joslin’s death catapulted me into the group I never wanted to belong to. I am now a bereaved parent. New days and happenings are colored with the realization that nothing is as it was before her death. And nothing will be as it was before. My life has been changed. Even the good times seem flavored with sad as there are losses associated with Joslin not being able to physically be here. So why think of the memories if they make me sad? That is a good question, one I have wrestled with. For me, I know the seasons of happy and sad are all tied together in keeping Joslin a part of my life.

I must admit that some days the grief is heavy and difficult and I grow tired of it, as I acknowledge that I will carry it until the end of my life. I don’t think a person ever gets over a major loss in their life. What I think is that we grow more used to carrying it, and we learn what works for us as we feel our pain and hold our memories. Time heals by helping us grow more accustomed to grief’s place in our life and to the changes which have occurred.

I recently read an article where someone said, “Pain is pain. It is all alike.” I don’t believe that. For each of us, our grief journey will be different. The level of the intensity of our pain will be different. My father died a couple months before Joslin died. With his death, my grief and losses is not at all like what I have experienced with Joslin’s death. My husband and I both lost the same daughter, but our grief and how we deal with our grief is very different. Each of us has a unique loss to deal with when someone dies, as we all have a unique tie to that individual.

If you have lost someone significant to you, you know what I mean. I wonder what sort of memories and grief triggers you have to deal with. What do you do with your grief and memories? I continue to hope and pray that those of you who are burdened with grief will have friends and family who will listen and come alongside you.

In those times when you are hit with pain, I hope you find ways to deal with it so you don’t miss out on the good things of your present life. That is something I have to work at. Our memories can remind us of unfinished business we need to attend to today in our current relationships. Our memories can remind us of the blessings we once had and are thankful for. Our memories can help us hold more important these days, as we pay attention to how we live them out. Our memories can remind us that we are just passing through this world, and that each day is a gift from God.

May we remember and live, with hope…