Memories are not Enough

We all know that memories are not enough. You cannot wrap your arms around a memory or kiss it's cheek, or hear it's voice. But this is what we are left with, memories. Some of us hold those moments past so close we begin to fear we will forget. The sound of their voice becomes less, the features of their face blurs and we panic. From the second I knew he was gone, memories of Tim were too painful. They wrenched my heart from my chest every moment. I truly did not want to remember anything. If I could not have him here physically, memories were not enough, nothing was enough. It still isn't, but now some of those memories make me smile a little even as the tears flow. It is amazing how many images and videos the mind captures even over a short period of time. Whether you have had your loved one for a moment or over many years, you have a store house of pictures of them in your mind.

When someone tells us that at least we have memories of them, we become a little offended. Do they really think that is comforting? Yes, they do and they mean well by it, but we can't help our inner reactions even to the most innocent of words. Our emotions are on such high alert, we notice every nuance, every twitch, every tone and instinctively react accordingly. In our world, we are not over reacting, we react on instinct. Many of our emotions are instant and not within our control. We lost control the day our loved on died. The thing is, our reactions may seem over the top but they are usually spot on too. That can be a bit scary and we will try to convince ourselves that we misunderstood. All of that brings added stress to what we already have. We live on emotions now.

In time, those memories become very important. It is when we start to feel they have been forgotten by everyone but ourselves that the memories become more precious than painful. Not that they don't hurt still, but they are finding their place in our new lives. On Thanksgiving day, my daughter's mother-in-law sat down beside me and said she wanted to share a memory of Tim with me. Yup, I cried, but I was also so grateful. She said his name, she shared a moment that I was not in to have that memory myself. She gave me a piece of him that I did not have. I did not want to be a wreck on that day because you see, I was building memories for those I love. I wanted them to remember the day as a good one, not one where I broke down every few seconds. She waited until it was just the two of us and gave me that grace to shed a few tears for Tim. She knows what it is like to lose a child too.

When we come to that point where the memory of them alive is a little less painful, we want to only remember all the good. We know they were not perfect, but in death, we are allowed to see them as perfect to us. It was not their death that defined them even though that is the top thought in our minds. It is all the rest that made them who they are. Many think we put on rose colored glasses that see only the good things, but they are wrong. We see the bad too, but they no longer matter. We do not have to dwell on that and it is a bit cruel to remind us of it. We don't need reminding, we choose to set it aside. We choose to remember the good in our lost one for that is their legacy. Do we set them on a pedestal in our memories, you bet we do and we have every right to do so. Centering on things they did wrong serves no purpose. I place Tim high, not because I am delusional but because I loved him no matter what, good and bad.

Holiday's, anniversaries, birthdays are especially hard because they are times that we all did something special together. They bring the memories in bright, rich colors that devastate us. Our hearts break some more if that is possible. Christmas last year, Tim decorated our tree while his little four year old son ran around it in circles, singing at the top of his lungs and laughing. I can see Tim laughing as Sky got caught up in the lights and decorations and everything went flying. It will be so painful this year because Tim is not here to laugh. But Sky is here. I find I want to leave him with precious memories of this first Christmas without his daddy. I want to leave all of my grandsons and daughter with precious memories so they have those to bring out when life becomes too harsh for them.

So even though memories are not enough, they are what we have left. I can still see the light of love in Tim's eyes for his son, for me his mom, his sister, for the people in his life. I hear his laughter and soft voice and even as it breaks my heart it brings me some comfort. No, he would not want anyone to suffer on his behalf, but that is not how life works. For reasons beyond me, we will suffer for as long as it takes. Memories of the good, the bad, the impossible mixed together. I will hold them all as precious and try to make good ones for those who still stand within my life. Someday they will need them.