Memories

Recently, I have not been able to sleep more than a couple of hours each night.  I’m exhausted!  As I lay in my bed last night unable to sleep, I was thinking of my grandson.  As is typical with me, my mind started to analyze his stage of life.  Why is it, for instance, that one cannot remember being his age?  When do memories begin?  Do we have to learn to have memories?  Is that why, in general, an earliest memory will not go beyond being younger than 3?  As I thought about these questions, the following came to my mind.  It contains my very earliest memory–a shiny, silvery moon coming in the mail.  What was that?  Anyway, I call this “Memories”.

Nothing!

No memories.

New in the world.

New ideas waiting to be formed.

But then, in time, faint memories begin to form.

A shiny, silvery moon in the mail.

A puppy with a collar and a dangling, jingling bell.

The school playground; sand in fingers, sand in shoes.

Jump rope, hopscotch, flying through the air.

Playing kickball, foursquare, chasing boys and playing tag.

Grandma dies, the world stops, waiting for hearts to heal.

Junior high school lockers, friends surrounding, mean girls always in the mix.

On to high school, turning sixteen, sitting cool behind the wheel.

Having boyfriends, breaking up, waiting for hearts to heal.

Graduation, off to college, missing home so much the heart could break.

So much homework, new friends, late nights, class comes early, missing home, when will this end?

Disappointments, cannot do this, missing home, look, now success.

Graduation, leaving college, missing friends, waiting for hearts to heal.

New job, new life, new everything, not sure this is going as was planned.

Adjustments follow, love blossoms, marriage proposal comes along.

New family formed, first baby born, feeling the joy she brings.

First hearing mommy, baby walking, soon another comes along.

Being busy, no time wasted, running errands, catching breath, what’s for dinner, need more groceries.

Out of milk, another baby comes along, helping with homework, giving baths, reading stories, when will this end?

Work in classroom, helping with homework, driving carpools, one more baby comes along, catching breath, sick child up all night.

Helping with homework, baby crying, buy more diapers, watching children grow, baby laughing, need more groceries, does this ever end?

Laundry piling, what’s for dinner, reading stories, watching children grow, driving carpools, now one in elementary, one in junior high, two in high school, helping with homework, school play, awards banquets, catching breath, baseball game, piano lessons, soccer balls, practices, helping with homework, what’s for dinner, graduation, taking her to college. . waiting for hearts to heal.  The time is flying, last one’s leaving, waiting for hearts to heal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Did it really end?

Children moving, wedding receptions, teardrops falling, waiting for hearts to heal.

Missing children, silence screaming, grandbabies coming, Christmas gatherings,

Children’s voices, carol’s singing, grandchildren cuddling, sending them home again.

Silence screaming, missing loved ones once nearby,

Waiting for phone calls, parents buried, waiting for hearts to heal. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Going for visits, staying with children, leaving once again.

Thanksgiving feasts, grandchildren’s visits, taking walks with each of them,

Grandchildren’s weddings, gathered with family, the heart feels joy again.

Where are the keys? Telephone ringing, children’s voices on the line,

Happy to hear them, which street is the house on, finally find it on the right,

No longer driving, waiting for hearts to heal.

Nowhere to go, nothing to do, now who are you again?

Sometimes they’re known; sometimes they’re not,

The days go by so slowly, do they end?

This is your daughter, this is your son,

Can you remember them?

Tear drops falling,

Waiting for hearts to heal.

Giving a smile, waving good-bye,

Wishing they were here,

Until the memories are . . .

Nothing!

I did not realize that this would be so hard to write.  When I got to the point of burying my parents, I could hardly stand it and, of course, after that I was a mess.  Nevertheless, I’m glad that I did, so that I could take a moment and reflect upon those memories that have created within me such a love.

Remember that 2 Plus 2 Doesn’t Always Equal 4                                                                     [And please take time to read my original post to understand Why the Title of this Blog? (Feb. 17, 2011)]

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5 responses to “Memories

  1. This was great and sad. But so true. You are a very good writer. Loved it. I need to print this or save it. I about cried too. Did you loose your folks recently? Life is so about change and our place on the circle of life keep changing. It is hard on our hearts to say goodbye. And goodbye to what may be the best time in our lives. Being alive is hard sometimes and getting older seems sad sometimes although i know wisdom comes with it. We only get one ride on this train so i intend to make the most of it as i can. Well said. I like it when people make me think about contemplative stuff. lol

  2. I know what you mean about the reality of time. Both of my parents are still alive (well, I definitely know one is, because I just heard her get up to go to the bathroom). But it’s hard when they start thinking that there is no point to take medication to prolong their life, especially when they see that the side effects of the medication are sometimes worse than the effects of the disease. In some ways, I dread having to deal with the aftermath of my mother’s passing, because I’m going to have to be the one who notifies my siblings (eh, I’ll probably just send an e-mail to my brother).

    Anyway–the first cognitive memory for me isn’t quite as pleasant. It’s one of screaming in pain, as I grabbed a railing while falling down the cellar stairs and dislocated my right elbow in the process (looking back, that probably was a smarter thing to do than do a face plant on the ground or into the cellar wall). It supposedly set itself back in place by the time we went to the doctor; the x-ray at least showed that. What the x-ray didn’t show, though, was that when it reset it displaced a nerve and pinched it–something that didn’t become evident until I was in college and my right hand kept going numb and the elbow kept locking up while I was writing (by the way–this isn’t a good thing to happen if you’re a history major). But knowing that this seems to be my first cognitive memory does make me wonder what it was for my siblings, because I was alive when both were born.

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