Last week my daughter phoned and during our conversation asked, "How do you feel about the 14th?" A bit confused, I asked her, "What's the 14th?", to which she replied, "Ya know Mom, the anniversary of Dad's death?"
"Ohhh yeah, that's right." I muttered. It's been seven years. Had I really forgotten? What was wrong with me? Am I so unfeeling, that I'd actually forgotten the date he died?
There are a few things I want to forget about that day; the indescribable terror as he collapsed to the floor that night, the running through the house screaming searching for the phone, sitting by his side praying, the distant wail of the ambulance, the slipping and sliding riding in a sheriff's car on icy roads in whiteout conditions, and walking into the hospital to find my brother and his best friend waiting for me only to inform me of something I already knew in my heart, "He's gone."
The heartache and grief I felt that day and for many months after has now faded, replaced by a daily "I know I was loved" smile.
Consequently, I'd rather remember the morning coffee we shared as we discussed the snowstorm which was moving in that day.
I'd rather remember his concern as to if his children were safe, where they were, and if staying in town wasn't a good idea considering the wind.
I'd rather remember midday, when I lovingly touched his cold, red cheeks as he stood beside the kitchen table after carrying in an armful of wood and I asked, "Are you okay? You look a bit white in the face, you'd better warm up." To which he put his arms around me, patted my behind and said, "Honey, I'm fine."
I'd rather remember celebrating his weight loss with a much anticipated evening meal of liver and syrup sandwiches and me saying"Phoooey!" and the appreciative smile on his face as he patted his tummy, then burped.
I'd rather remember late evening when I glanced behind me and saw the waiting, "I'm gonna get some" smile on his face as I hurried to finish an Internet conversation.
I'd rather remember the "getting some", the giggles, the hugs, the smiles.
So you see, it isn't the particular day that matters, but rather all the other days and memories filled with sunshine, laughter and love.
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Comments: 44
Exactly, Lynn.
I am sorry for your loss though
It is sad that you lost your love, but wonderful that you had something so precious to begin with. I'm sure you know, that many people go their entire lives without ever having experienced that.
I, too, would remember the good times.
My Mom was buried on my birthday and, for years, I could not celebrate my birthday. Then I realized she would never want me to hold on to the sadness, but to grab hold of the joy. So I began to try to do so. I think I'm doing okay with it.
I think your husband would be happy that you have forgotten the sorrow and remembered the joy. I'm sure that you would have been happy for him to remember only the good times, if he had been the one left here and you had gone home.
I have to ask...and don't want to spoil the mood...but liver and syrup sandwiches? What is that?
I was very nervous about sharing it.
Thanks to all that commented on my article. It was a tough one to write, I'd rather write about happy, joyful things....BUT today this was on my heart. Again thanks to all who commented.
Heather - I did try to explain a bit to my wonderful daughter, I'm hoping she reads this as its even more detailed...
Sue - "Crashes" once in awhile. What I termed "drop of the hat tears". I'd be going through daily life and all of a sudden burst into tears, anything triggers such spells, even walking into a grocery store and seeing some liver in the meat case. Your friend is "trying" to get on with life, trying to move forward, good for her. These emotions are all "normal" and we who have suffered such a loss move at different speeds, simply because we're all different people. God bless you for being such a wonderful, caring friend.
practice safe surfing, step by step article.
good that you have happy times
and good memories
to think on.