Memories💔 Are my memories of the dead all I have? No, I create new memories every day. Do I let grief make my memories a source of sadness and pain, or do I reclaim them and let them bring me joy?
I remember everything: times when we were very loving to each other, times when we argued, times when I felt lonely. I want to remember my Dad as he was and remember us as we were. One of the ways I keep my Father alive is by talking about him. Whether or not a loved one lived a long life or had a miscarriage – and I had 2 miscarriages – memories always remain. Memory is a place I like to visit 💚.
Memories give us warmth and comfort. Conversely, the feeling that they can never be repeated tears us apart. My experience of bereavement was unlike anything I could have expected… In the beginning there was total darkness. I saw no way to find a spark of light. I didn’t know that perhaps I was already there, I just didn’t realise it. I didn’t even know how I could continue to breathe, but I was breathing. Part of experiencing my grief fully was the blessing of having so many memories of living and loving with my Father. My memories, as I learned how to make them whole again, showed me how to keep the darkness at bay and breathe💕.
Grief is a powerful tormenting factor that surrounds us and is trapped within us. What if we could use our memories to protect us from it? If grief doesn’t go away, what if we could create something beautiful around it – with memory? Photographs, like memories, can bring pleasure or pain, or both. Many of my father’s photographs in my home are placed in places that I had to choose where I wanted – or not – to look at them. I love his face, but sometimes the fact that he is no longer here makes me sad or angry 😠. When I took these photos, I never thought they would become such a big part of what’s left of him.
Some people are afraid to forget their memories. And for me, that’s part of my pleasure: forgetting memories and rediscovering them. Did something really happen the way I remember it? It doesn’t matter… In my memories I find feelings, opinions and, most importantly, miłość❤️❤️❤️
I remember, but…. we can no longer remember together😢. We can no longer argue about whose memory is accurate and whose is not. We can no longer laugh and cry together. In some ways, memory is even stronger and more precious to me. I am the keeper of my loved one’s story. This responsibility gives my life meaning. I am comforted by the thought that although time has taken my living Father away, it cannot take away the joy of the time we spent together unless… I let it. Those we love deeply become part of us. Time can sometimes increase the pain, but it also increases my capacity for joy as I feel more and more that my father is part of me. I love him more !!! not less. I feel that he still holds my hand and leads me forward.
Is this the case for you?
With Metta ❤️
Anna