M: Memory

today, i'm thinking about memories....we all have times in our lives when we feel particularly inclined to reflect on our past and remember people, places, and events that we carry with us in our deepest self. lately, i have been remembering raw emotions experienced during the illness and aftermath of the death of my father. recently, my husband's grandfather passed away and we spent a weekend in illinois with his family and they spent time remembering and, simultaneously, making new memories together. on our way home, we got word that a cousin of mine had died and another cousin is very ill. times like this make me stop and think about the fleeting moments that are life...

i'll be honest: i become so fixated on realizing life and being present in the moment that i become afraid - afraid of losing the beauty of life, either my own or someone else's. case in point: friday afternoon, my husband was cleaning out my car. i noticed a tennis-ball sized bulge in the sidewall of my right front tire. not knowing what this meant, i made some phone calls and did some research on the internet, where my wondering eyes were met with: "Do NOT drive your vehicle! You could experience a blow out, causing an accident and possible death to you and to other motorists!!" normally i think i could have taken this information in stride and filtered it properly, but in my current, overly emotional state? forget it. we tried to replace the tire but no one had any in stock - dh and i both worked on saturday so one of us had to drive my car, so i spent most of friday night crying - afraid that one of us would die the next day on the interstate. seriously.

and it sounds absurd, but i get it - i understand why i flipped out. when my dad died, i went through a long phase where i felt that developing relationships with the people around me was pointless because in the end, all you really have is yourself - you come into the world alone and you die alone, so what was the point in loving anyone else along the way? that would only lead to heartache. i hope you can see the sick-cycle in that thought process. i was depressed and illogical at the time, and on the rare occasion that i feel that rug of security begin to give underneath me, it is very easy to slip back into that underlying problem i felt all those years ago - the fear of loving and losing, again. it comes from an honest place - a sore place.

i decided long ago that i couldn't live a life without love - that love was worth the risk. that's when i made this:

one person that really helped me to understand where i was at in the grieving process was a teacher by the name of dr. mark crowell. he taught a class titled, "death and dying" - one of the most painful and educational classes i have ever taken.
i'm going to share an article that dr. crowell wrote years ago for the Jackson Sun newspaper, to close this ramble about memories...

Memories

I stopped by my old community the other day. The house in which I grew up is empty for the first time since the late 1930's. Memories live in the walls, on the hearth, and in the first coat of paint. The house once shared the laughter of children on a Sunday morning, the music of rotary fans on a hot summer night, and the whisper of a fire chasing away a winter's chill.
I began to walk among the swirling brown and gold leaves. Some were damp from a light rain and clung to the soles of my shoes. My spirit was also a little damp; it was looking for something or someone to cling to. The community looked different. The things I thought could never change had changed.
Some pictures are perfect. They are framed in the finest gold that money can buy. Perhaps some of the best pictures are seen with the eyes closed and the heart open-pictures of people laughing, touching, singing, and playing. With “unseen” experiences, the spirit of life is renewed and lost hope is found. Some “pictures” bring pain and break our heart over and over again. Remembering the day your best friend moved away, the last time Papa touched your face, or Marcia’s fading smile minutes before she died are “never-to-be-forgotten” memories. Your deepest hurt is felt when something precious is missing. It is as if a part of you is gone, a part you long to possess again, knowing it will never be. What remains for a while is the burden of carrying thoughts so deep you think you are going crazy.
Stanley Kunitz, in his poem The Layers asks, “How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses?” It is important to share memories, particularly if the memories are filled with hurt. There is great power in sharing a painful memory with someone who remembers his/her own pain. Sharing can create a powerful bond between individuals and gives one a feeling of belonging. Belonging is all about making room in ourselves for others and realizing that relationships are more important than anything else in life.
We “mess up” in little ways every day and sometimes we really hurt others, or ourselves, by our neglect or indifference. When we fail at something, or face utter helplessness, or perhaps cause direct harm, it is important for us to accept that failure, or neglect, in order to make things better. Sometimes we may even feel guilty about wanting to feel better. If that is the case, we need the eyes of another in order to see forgiveness. Forgiveness is important but it is hard to forget the things that trouble us.
What can I do with painful or bad memories? Tell the memories they are okay, and stop fighting with them. Memories need a little peace, not a lot of changing. Allow the memories to be what they are and embrace them. Hold them gently, and they will stop fighting with you. Even bad memories need a little love. And then we discover with the poet, Rilke, that “Perhaps everything that frightens us is in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”
If you return to your old community and memory takes your hand, hold it lightly for it belongs to yesterday. If it is beautiful take a little time to smile and re-create the images of that beauty. If it is painful and filled with sadness and yearning, then embrace the pain, knowing it will pass, and find a quiet place to cry for a while. It is important to give compassion to our memories because the present needs a safe place in to which it can be born and weave together a new reality, one that lets us love and lose, and love and lose, and love…

Dr. Mark Crowell