One of the reasons the holidays are so difficult is that the feeling of Absence is so intense. There is not a day ~ not an hour, really ~ in my life in which I am not aware of my son's absence, but the holidays, with their memories and traditions, music and fragrances, exacerbate to the nth degree the sense that there is a hole in the universe.
And if you are anything like me, one of the most painful realities of both daily and holiday absence is the silence on the part of friends and family. Among my most treasured possessions now are the very few emails, most of them written by college friends, filled with stories and thoughts about Josh.
At Josh's funeral service, one of our adult friends mentioned in his eulogy the sight of Josh racing across a soccer field, blonde hair flying in the wind. It was such a gift to me, the knowledge that someone else had noticed a sight that I had so loved.
So I challenge us all: Let's do the same for someone else this holiday. Let's each write a note to someone who has lost a child, a parent, a friend, a brother or sister, and fill it with concrete, tangible, loving memories. We all know they haven't forgotten, but we all know, too, how much they need to hear that others haven't either.
A few stones of memory, offered as small but precious gifts.
(Previous related posts are linked in the tab above.)
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So true. I would like everyone who knew my son to share memories and stories with me. Those are the gifts that I want more than anything.
ReplyDeleteAh Robin. One of the reasons I made the Eternal Flame video is that without having ever known Josh "in the flash", there is still a vividness and singularity to that young man in every picture you have shared of him, and in so many of the stories, that even in his absence he is a presence to me. Thank you for your determination to help me do the work of remembering.
ReplyDeleteThank you again and again, Rosa.
DeleteThanks for this. I hope the stories keep coming. This spurred me to share a personal memory with a friend whose mother died last month. I had considered it my own, but, truly, it belongs to all who knew her.
ReplyDeleteGood for you! I'm sure it meant the world to your friend.
DeleteRobin, this is so true. I had a wonderful conversation with my daughter the other day when it was the 36th anniversary of my mother's death. It meant so much to me, even after all those years, to hear her speak of her memories of the little things that my mother did for her and my daughter was only 10 years old when my mother died. Thank you for this insightful post.
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful that your daughter has those memories and can share them with you.
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