What to make of memories in this time of reflection?
May 11, 2020
“Sometimes, our lives overlap with others, only briefly. We share troubles, laughter, or learning and move on, Afterwards all we will hold in common is a memory. The chapter passes like a storm, or sunshine, or an ordinary day.
But the heavens always send us something new. A chance, a lease of life, a soul mate. or a friend.
And the best, like love itself, fly back to us. In us they make their home.”
-Call the Midwife
This is a time for reconsidering. A careless moment of our own (or another), a stray germ–mortality has become a thing of chance. This imbues every breathing moment with new urgency, new importance.
How do we want to spend our time? And with whom? Who has shown up for us? Who matters? And as important, to whom do WE matter? Who will become memories?
I love “the heavens alway send us something new” because that’s been my experience, too. A reconnection with a cousin now that she is in middle age and I a senior. The chance to meet in person a friend I’ve known and liked online for more than a decade. The anticipation of spending time with old friends who have moved away.
New things, new opportunities, are always presenting themselves, if we pay attention.
We will have memories of this time in our lives. Sad ones and inspirational ones. Some people may even become memories. So might the way of life we’ve known before.
But here’s what’s inevitable: making new memories. And that has its own joy.
This was great to hear today. I was a little blue about Mother’s Day in isolation. Yet, you remind me that I’ve connected with nieces in ways I never did before. I’m in a daily thread with brothers and sisters. And I have more time to write.
I remember a story my mother told about my Nana who got diphtheria in the middle of her motherhood. I mean, she had children and was struck with this horrible disease. My grandfather was a traveling salesman and when he arrived home, they had sequestered her in a bedroom and he could not go in to comfort her. My mother was a little child. But she saw her tall father stand in the doorway of that room and shake with weeping. Nothing changes over a vast period of time. These is sorrow and loss. We have to adjust. Damn, it’s hard.
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This was great to hear today. I was a little blue about Mother’s Day in isolation. Yet, you remind me that I’ve connected with nieces in ways I never did before. I’m in a daily thread with brothers and sisters. And I have more time to write.
it’s so important to hold on to the positive today.
I remember a story my mother told about my Nana who got diphtheria in the middle of her motherhood. I mean, she had children and was struck with this horrible disease. My grandfather was a traveling salesman and when he arrived home, they had sequestered her in a bedroom and he could not go in to comfort her. My mother was a little child. But she saw her tall father stand in the doorway of that room and shake with weeping. Nothing changes over a vast period of time. These is sorrow and loss. We have to adjust. Damn, it’s hard.
Old memories. They die hard.
Facebook has brought me back to so many people and help me meet so many others. I know it’s a pain at times, but so thankful for the good things.
I have actually gone after peeople I want back in my life. It’s been great.