MemOh

“...But the memory of something painful does just the opposite. It retains its original shape, all bony fingers and pointy elbows. Every time it returns, you get a quick poke in the eye or jab in the stomach. The memory of being unhappy has the power to hurt us long after the fact. We feel the injury anew each and every time we think of it.”
― Cameron Dokey, Belle: A retelling of "Beauty and the Beast"

All of us here are well aware of what Mr. Dokey speaks of, we have all endured those pokes and jabs which some of our memories can cause as they are part of our journey now. Recently I came across a post related to grief and it posited that after a while we would find that we would start to recall first, the memories of the lives of our partner rather than thinking of their death first. It caught my eye because I am finding that to be true for me. It is really not such a hard thing to do, but grief has such an overwhelming effect, the ability to do so had been hindered. But they are occurring first, and I'm glad they have. Not having given much thought about memory and remembering at all during most of my life, I now find I am almost consumed by the phenomenon about a goodly portion of my life, they are all I have...and the newer memories, the ones which had been coming first for most of the past 2 years and the thought of moving forward without DJ has nearly totaled me...nearly. But I guess it all serves it's intended purpose as we find that after a while, we can have the memories without so much of the pain. Since they don't appear to be going anywhere anytime soon, an effort to try to incorporate them into our different lives as we make the journey, has to be made. The mechanics of memories seem to be, in general, universal altho how they affect us and our response to them, no doubt, are as individual as we are.
It is kind of strange, as in a way, all I really do is think about DJ, every other thought is about her and our life together. Whereas at first, early on I was almost paralyzed by doing so, now at least I can do other things while the thoughts and memories flow just beneath the surface. And at first, for the better part of a year and a half those memories were related to the last four years of her life and especially those last few months; they came first, at times forcing me to stop all pretense at being able to do anything else, and even taking to my bed for days at a time. Lying there I would debate whether to consider just drifting away or would allow my self to think that the entire world could go to hell...whatever happened, well, let it happen. It is my belief that those times were made even more dreadful because of the pain that came with those thoughts. Although the very last line of the quote above appears to be true and those thoughts have not completely disappeared, they have for the most part subsided, and as I say, I can do other things. That they 'poke and jab' is quite true, but I'm finding they have softened. As the memories of our life before the illness appear more readily now (and without pain I might add), I think I am able to better recognize, define, and maybe even embrace the facts of the different life, with that ability allowing me to affirm my hope in living forward.  But in doing all of this, I try to keep in mind that this is 'my' reality, how these memories come to affect my behavior and my life and that it is very different for everyone, with all of it being valid. Naturally it is a constant thing with myself, to try to put these things in a 'safe place', it is the approach I have chosen, but I also notice and cannot help but to try and understand how all this affects our family too...mainly our children. They each have their own reality of memories and have had a hand in shaping how they express how they are affected.  For sure, in general, when we gather these days there is talk of DJ and recollections of her foibles and her 'Mom isms', the things common to all children and parents I imagine. Even the last times can be talked about with only a tinge of sadness and a few moments of quiet. Those are one sort of memories, they are shared and enjoyed by the group. But in thinking of all of this, I try to focus on some of the things not readily noticeable. Our youngest daughter lives about an hour away and in the last few months made the trip daily to our house...and back to her own in the evening when DJ had settled in. During that time it was not unusual for DJ to call her and ask that she bring some popcorn (the special regular/carmelcorn mix), or a smoothie, or some food she might be having a taste for...now, all of us did this, but is was almost a regular thing between those two.   For the first couple of weeks after DJ died, she would stop by the house fairly often, we would talk and try to console one another, but soon she stopped coming by. Of course we still talked almost everyday and kept in touch via texting and the various social medias, her visits were few. DJ's sister lives about 10 minutes from me, and some of the holiday events have been transferred to her house, and we would see one another there. At one point during an occasion we got to talking and she mentioned that she wanted me to know how hard it was for her to even walk up the steps to our house, that she didn't want me to think she didn't want to see me, but it was all just so hard...now, this was fairly early on, but even at that time I had known what was up. As we talked, I let her know I understood about her coming to the house and pointed out to her that I had the same trouble walking up those steps...every day and that I could not count the times I had been tempted to turn around, get in the car and drive off...period. Continuing, I said it must have been pure hell for her to have to make those trips each day, with all that time to think about all that was going on, all that was yet to happen. I let her know I understood how difficult it all must have been, especially that nightly ride back home; not knowing if the next day her mother would be alive and knowing that probably one night soon, would be that night before 'that' day. The memory for her of making those trips were powerful indeed, and more than once we had phone talks about handling the grief she was experiencing and just how hard it was for her. Many times I said to her that is necessary for her to have to cry her ass off for her mother and not to try to ''be strong'''; she had lost her mother, it was natural and I reminded her that any attempts not to feel everything she needed to would do her no good. We have since talked about that time and as she speaks I can hear the memory in her voice, there is pain, but I believe it has eased. My own memory of that time has this along with everything else blended in; see, when she would leave on those nights and it would just be me and DJ, I would also be thinking about our daughter taking that ride and thinking and feeling and knowing. It is said that there is a special pain a parent feels when their children are hurting and there is nothing to be done, I one for one believe it. Of course I have noticed this with our other two children also, but here I am talking about the youngest.
Yes, the memory of something painful appears to retain it's shape, it's hard edges cutting deep into the skin of our emotions and the flesh of our mental bodies. For a time it is all we can feel, all we can know. It can make us think that it will never leave and will penetrate and linger for the duration. For me, the pain those edges can create has softened, tho at times it can reappear with all the searing agony of the original cut. Today I am grateful that I can think past DJ's death and remember the earlier times, those times when there was yet much to be attempted. It is better understood by me today that this is part of 'me', that it has to be a part, and only a part; it reminds me that what comprises me is much more than DJ's death and whatever pain of grief I may suffer, just as DJ herself was much more than her death and the effect it has on others. So having the life memories coming first, balancing out those sad and hurtful times is welcomed, I and trying to revel in them when I can because I do understand that altho may be coming first now, those edges await, and I suspect always will, I think they too are part of me, of life. I am coming to believe that it is a curious aspect of our human-ness that we find we can define, articulate and even claim to know many things, we can attribute effects to causes, give descriptions and set down as facts an untold number of things. But in regards to the feelings memories can generate, all of that, none of that, appears to do us any good in managing our reactions to them...we are humbled to the realization that even all our knowledge comes up short against them. At this point in my own journey, with happier memories coming first, the other aspects of living become a bit clearer if not easier to live with. The necessary background sadness takes it's place along side the other things we manage to find places for in our lives; the waves of grief, tho understood, still have shattering results when they strike; memories both good and bad run rampant through our minds and we are left to assign them to the price for having loved and try to press forward. Being trapped in the limits of our humanity we attempt to find our own peace, that peace we define for ourselves, possibly liking none of this, but knowing there is no other way, it is 'life' and we have to live it.
The other day I was thinking about a time before we moved into our current house, we had been packing boxes for weeks even tho we did not yet have anything definite. Each day after work we would do something aimed in the direction of moving. Closets of the apartment were being emptied, unused items were being discarded and although we both were well along in years, this would be our first house and we had an air of excitement about us that was infectious. Once, amid the boxes, piles of clothes, and other signs of major disruption, as we took a break and had refreshments, we talked about the possibilities the move offered; nothing special, just the things folks go over when they do things like this. There was talk of furniture, floors, finding the right colors, mostly things women would be concerned with. I remember looking at her as she talked and thumbed through a magazine...I can't really say I was listening hard, more like enjoying her glee and thanking my Higher Power for allowing me to have come back from years of practicing to arrive at a point where we could even be contemplating a major move for us. It didn't matter what she wanted to do, it was all fine with me, I was just glad we could be doing it at all. At one point DJ said to me ''...this is all I ever really wanted...just to be doing the things normal people do, trying to make a better life...'', It was a reference to the previous years when describing us as dysfunctional would have been an upgrade for our family. I can really remember feeling just plain good at that moment even tho we had no idea when or if any of this might occur. Seeing her happy about something was enough for me and being able to have that memory first today is great. It's the type of memory that is happening first a lot these days altho some sadness comes along for the ride. But it's alright, again, that's the way it should be I think and for sure, they are part of my life now.
The hard days still come and at times they can be as rough as the instance of those very first moments of realization, with all the anguish and disbelief reappearing for an encore, I'm finding that knowing that they happen, and understanding that this is all part of it does not help when those enormous waves of grief hit and you have to not only admit you know the truth, but feel every degree of pain it brings. I'm not so sure that will ever become a memory, this process, this journey we are on, It is simply (ha!) a fact and cannot be denied. My attempts at keeping the memories without all the pain are holding their own against those forces of sadness which at times makes me want to scream '' I am!...I am...hurt, stunned, lost...angry, I am Goddamn!'', and having hope comes easier; I imagine that for a while, it's the best which can be expected.