"Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were"
'The Way We Were" - written by Marvin Hamlisch - 1973
On a recent Sunday morning as I lazed about only half watching the morning news, the doorbell for our house sounded. These days that is a rare occurrence indeed as other than the initial burst of activity at our home in the couple of weeks immediately following DJ’s death, I would be willing to bet that bell hasn’t rang more than 10 times in the little more than two years since that day…and that includes the post person and deliveries; I will never be accused of being a social butterfly. As I rested two fingers on the deadbolt and my other hand on the doorknob, I looked through the installed peek-hole; what greeted my eye was the image of a young girl in a slightly soiled pink puff coat, perhaps nine or ten years old, holding a shovel and looking at the door and scanning the porch area. To say we have had more than our share of snow this winter season is a bit more than an understatement, altho it does provide the opportunity for the local kids to earn some cash. Throwing the deadbolt and turning the doorknob, I opened the door and my view expanded to see a young boy standing at the bottom of the porch steps…her associate no doubt. Focusing on the young girl, I listened as she inquired as to whether I would like my steps and porch cleared of snow of which there was quite a lot. Almost without thinking, I replied yes and asked that they extend the shoveled area out to the sidewalk, and make a path to the curb. Without informing me what this would cost, she turned and carefully walked down the few steps and spoke with her companion and the shoveling started. As I shut the door, my mind was taken to a memory triggered by what had just transpired and I recalled how my brother and I did the same type of things as young kids in our own time. It’s a memory like many of those about DJ and the life we shared that I can have today and revel in as I recount the details.
Such has not always been the case, this reveling in memories, especially those regarding DJ, our life together and her death. I believe all of us can relate to those times of crushing pain and tremendous sadness where, as we replay what has occurred, we can be taken to very dark and lonely places, and for me, those times are not that far removed from today, but for the most part, have come less frequently now altho their intensity has only diminished slightly. Those of us who grieve can find that memories and dealing with them can become the central focus of our lives for quite some time following our loss. At times it appears that our minds refuse to give us rest, with thoughts of, not only what has taken place as far as the dying of our partners, but previous times, events and situations which can crowd in and attempt to trap us beneath a deluge of wildly ranging emotions and devastating realizations. We can come to find that just the mere act of dealing with all which is brought up by our loss can propel us towards those frightening yet seemingly necessary confrontations not only with the specifics of any given memory, but with our previously conceived notions of life, love, hate, good, bad, death….all of it. In that early time as we make the sometimes futile attempts to understand a situation with which we have no previous experience, despite shock and numbness, we can sense the gravity of what has occurred altho the full weight may not make itself known for some time yet. Images of recent events play over and over in our minds, last moments may be recalled, unspoken words can come to mind, possibly unneeded and questionable things we may have said or done can wreak havoc in our lives for a while, leaving us emotional wrecks, many times causing us to bring our own sanity, the strength of our faith, the alignment of the stars, and any sense of certainty we may have once held, into question, and for some of us, forces us to realize that we do not know everydamnthing. It is a harsh awakening and as we travel the path, the Journey exposes our frailties and demands, at least it did for me, that if we are to move forward in the different life, that we understand the importance of finding safe places for our memories.
The memory triggered by the youngsters at my door, that of my brother and I scrounging the neighborhood for chores in order to earn money for our small enterprises, is not one that presents many difficulties. It can take me to a rather carefree time when we as kids found it safe to roam the streets in search of tasks to perform. Our best efforts were usually on a Saturday in anticipation of going to one or two of the local movie theaters on Sunday, but we were not above taking any opportunity on any given day, Saturdays come to mind I think because they usually were the most profitable for us. For a while after our mother died, my older brother and younger sister and I lived with our dad’s mom. Being that our sister was only a year old at the time, the grandparents had their hands full and my brother and I were often left to our own devices. Those would include going up and down the blocks of our neighborhood knocking on doors and asking for things to do, which could range from cleaning back porches, yards, and garages, to running errands to the store for the various neighbors…once we helped a lady wash Venetian blinds, the old metal type which we dunked in a tub of water and brushed clean. We would take out trash, and depending on the time of year, rake leaves or shovel snow. There was a period when we had a wagon, and would hang around the local supermarket waiting for folks who might need groceries rolled home. As I talk about these types of things with our kids, other family members and in general, it is with a sense of joy and nostalgia. My older brother really took care of me during those 2 or 3 years when we ran together; I remember once when he was invited to friend’s house to play with a car racing set, he was told only he could go because the boy's mother said only two visitors at a time and there was another kid going; I remember my brother saying “…well, if he (pointing to me) can’t come, I can’t either…”, we didn't go. I have never forgotten that. It’s the type of memory that can give you a special warmth, and atho I’m no genius, I have better sense than to try and name just what type of feeling it is, it’s much like porn to me; not something I may be able to accurately describe, but I know it when I see it or in this case experience that feeling. I’m sure we all have those types of memories, and can understand the types of emotions they can generate, the ones that can let us know that we have been part of a very real connection with someone and and about which, the results were very good. With family it may be expected, with our partner’s I think it grew and blossomed into that beautiful thing, the memory of which we hold so dear and, because of it’s beauty and the special place it holds in our hearts, the feeling it gives us, can make us feel so bad at times. We find it’s hard work dealing with the thoughts and memories of our partners, and for me, finding safe places for those memories about DJ and our life, which I knew from the start would always be there, has really been my primary focus in all of this. I wanted it to be a quick leap, but I was forced to accept that it is a time consuming Journey.
Altho I didn't realize it then, my brother and I were creating those memories to which I refer to often today. Examining DJ's death in the light of how do I move forward in the different life has led my mind to remember things I have not thought about for some time as we find that every part of our life is brought to the fore. Those memories of me and my brother are some of the first I can recall with genuine glee. I cannot recall experiencing much pain about the loss of our mother; I do remember being told she was 'dead' and would not be coming back, I think I remember that making me feel sad, being on five at the time, I'm not really sure. By the nature of our circumstance, my brother and I were together a lot for a few years and did almost everything together. It seems he would magically know when it was spinning top season or marble season or kite season or scooter making season or bottle top shooter season, there was even a match shooter season...probably one of the more dangerous times, but we had it too. For any of these times we would need money to buy the necessary items; spinning tops, marbles, kites, used street skates bought from the second hand store to be used on the scooters, rubber bands for the shooters; matches, the stick type with heads which would ignite when scrapped across a rough surface were lifted from the local mom and pop store. Even after having being involved with and focusing on memories to what I think is an extreme level, it's still amazing to me how the appearance of those two youngsters on my porch sparked such a sequence of thoughts about that time and my childhood and sent me to thinking of DJ. But again, it shows the wonder and power that memories can hold and reminds us of how almost anything can set one's mind to reeling. I make no claims about having any great formal understanding on the dynamics of the human memory or how it is suppose to work; but I do feel fairly comfortable in explaining my own thoughts on the subject because for a little more than two years thoughts about memory, the memories themselves and the effects they have had on me has occupied nearly every waking moment of my life. It is sometimes said that we tend to remember only the good parts of events and situations, that our minds tend to blot out the more negative aspects of things we remember and for the most part I can accept that, but I have also found that in my own case, remembering the good, the bad and the ugly has been the norm for the memories regarding what DJ and I shared and perhaps that's the way it has to be about something so personal. Navigating through them, I came to realize that those most of enjoyable moments and well as those times I'd just as soon as forget came to me with equal force, requiring equal attention and processing. Just as thoughts of the happier times could give a feeling of quiet inner joy, peace and solace, so those moments when the more human of our traits were exposed and the better angels of our nature were nowhere to be found, could drive my spirits to depths I could not have previously imagined.
These days the memories about us which come to mind exist along with or may even be the reason for the dull persistent drone of the background sadness which is now part of my life. It is curious that this sadness does not prevent me from really enjoying other things at this point…something I don’t think I could have said a year ago. For sure, the thoughts come that I wish she was here, those moments at a given event when I say to myself, “DJ would love this…”, those rare days now, when I can say and believe all is right with the world and I would just love to share that day with her…yes, it all comes but are tolerable, even looked forward for, despite the fact I must enjoy them without her. Recalling the happier times comes easier, thinking about the quirks and features which endeared DJ to me so, today, does not cripple my mind at every turn; I am able to relive almost all of the memories and gain that warmth from the appropriate ones and recognize the realities of the less enjoyable moments we shared…I have come to believe that at least for now, it is part of my different life. Naturally, the waves still hit, moments of sheer unadulterated sadness and pain, forcing me to surrender to their power; I find no fault with this and having understood long ago it was useless to fight them, I let them have their way. To me, this is as it should be, I should feel the stinging nature of what has been lost; I should come to know the pain that DJ’s absence can give at times and even expect it, I loved that woman, loved her by any definition you may want to use and it hurts that she is no longer with me…I believe there are dues to be paid for having such a rich and pleasing relationship and this is part of the price. Moreover, for me, I think it should be this way, these powerful memories are part of our lives, without them our partners and I think a part of us cease to exist. What the Journey has enlightened me on is that I have to learn to carry those memories without bringing so much of the pain along with them. The majority of my efforts in my attempt to actively grieve has been built around this notion. And it is happening for me, I cannot say exactly why, be it my efforts or simply the passage of time, but for sure, it is happening.
There was a time when I could hardly believe that life would be livable again, a time when just the thought of another day without DJ would draw that dagger of pain right into the heart of my mind; a time when I was able to throw concern for family or those who really cared about me, right out the window, with the idea of me soon following being my next logical step. We all know those times and in my experience they were the worse I have ever endured. There are no magic solutions for those who must live with them; we each have to find our own way through them, trying things, reshaping ideas and trying to maintain Hope that yes, it will get better. For myself I realized that no matter what the question, I needed to find answers which I could live with…solutions which made sense to me. In my case, it does not matter what others may think of my reasoning, there is no need for me to go into long discussions of why I have decided to believe this way or that; the memories have led the way and being mine, only have to make sense to me. They have allowed and helped me understand that in this particular scheme, in this thing we call life I can’t and shouldn’t always depend on finding my answers in the solutions of other’s problems. With the death of DJ being so personal to me, so close, it is only fair that whatever peace I might find has to come from the totality of the experience of our sharing our lives together and in that, only she and I could ever know how to go about it. Remembering how she looked in that white outfit, watching from across the room as she laughed at our daughter’s engagement party despite being gravely ill, making my own plate of food these days and thinking how she would remind me to get this or that item…thinking about the day of the diagnosis, the trips to the chemo center, the night tears we shared; bringing to mind the stark and revealing conversations which we had, those angry moments, those really bad days and of course those very good days…and nights; and yes, even those very last moments as I counted the seconds between her last breaths...the scattered pictures, the smiles left behind... I have to remember it all, for me it cannot be done piecemeal, every aspect which can be remembered has to brought into line, looked at squarely and at least an attempt at finding a safe place for it must be made; these are just some of the memories which once I feared were stalking me in attempt to lay me low, but which I now find can contain some measure of peace and even joy.
My doorbell rang again, I answered it to find my porch and stairs nearly totally cleared of the snow. The young girl and her friend were standing there…waiting. Complimenting them on a “very good job”, I proceeded to grossly overpay them, but that was alright; remembering back, I can think of the times when I thought my brother and I were overpaid for some small job we had done. Perhaps one day these two youngsters will recall the Sunday morning they rang a doorbell and a memory was created for and by them, allowing them to complete some project they may have had in mind...or maybe just to feel good about earning their own money together on that day. All of us here know the power of memories and I would venture to say that now we now have a much greater appreciation of the effects they can have on our lives. Whereas at one time we may have dreaded, even feared them, today perhaps we can have the Hope that it does not have to be that way. Sometime back, I mentioned about HOW I was attempting to deal with DJ’s death, that is, with a bit of Honesty, Openness & Willingness, I posited at the time that this was merely my attempt to make some sense out of the seemingly senseless. For the most part I have been able to stick to those three ideas; it is not always pretty and easy is not a part of the equation, but I really didn’t expect it to be. What I hoped for was to find a way, by which to apply them, that would help me put some of the memories in safe places. In large part it appears to be working, like that memory of me and my brother, the memories of the life DJ and I shared tho coming fast a furious at times, no longer overwhelms me and actually come with the soothing knowledge that despite everything which has happened, life can move on, the days can have sunshine again, and the beauty of the night stars has not been lost. I Hope those struggling, now, today, can remember this.
