Remembering What We Can't Forget

In my mother's grieving, in her fury, she lashed out to me about the people who had stopped calling, the people who'd avoid her at the grocery store, on the street -- the people who'd glance her way then quickly head in the other direction. She lashed out at all the people who seemed not to care... anymore.

I tried to reassure her that people cared that her husband had died. That maybe they cared too much. They just didn't know how to behave. They didn't know what to do, what to say. It's too big. Too scary.

It's been a week since I got the news that Al Weisel passed away. And I still can't believe it. I simply cannot believe it. And I've thought about him every day, even when I wrote about not winning a writing contest. Even when I learned more about how to write about my life by not thinking it's all that interesting. Even when The Skimmer and I were talking about my new header design and I thought maybe the cute cartoon woman who has no feet should be bigger. And he said, "You always have an opinion!" And I said, "Well, of course I do!" And he said, "Whatever!" And I said, "Whatever!" And then I thought, Don't be such a touchy creative type! But I didn't say it out loud.

I thought about Al this morning as I was pouring a cup of coffee, thinking about how he much he drank tea. The way I think of my stepfather when I'm filling up my gas tank, remembering the times I drove him crazy when I was a teenager and would forget to put the gas cap back on after I had pumped the gas. He had to replace it a million times.

I'll be going about a normal day and something will make me think about my best friend's mom. Or her dad. Or Brando's friend. Or Brenda's mom and dad. Or Adorable Girlfriend's grandmother, Kathleen's sister, Dennis Perrin's sister-in-law, Jennifer's sister-in-law, Nicho's father, Steve Kuusisto's mother and father, Patti Digh's father and stepfather, the paternal grandmother and grandfather I knew as a young girl, or the maternal grandmother and grandfather I never met.

I've been thinking of my mother's father, who died when she was just 15, when I've clicked over to Dr. X's blog lately.

What if that's him? Did he look like that? Did he feel taken advantage of? Did anyone care? Wonder what he'd think of me?

I'll never know what he'd think of me. But all I can do is think of him. It's the only thing left to do.

On Christmas Eve 2008 my stepfather was at hospice. And we had that talk. That talk, that time together that makes you want to rip your hair out wondering if it's better that he had time for that talk at all because he was suffering so much.

From his bed, he told all of us that he'd given it a lot of thought. And he knew that to be remembered is really the only thing that really mattered.

Remembering comes at strange times. But it's a part of all of our days. While pouring coffee. While filling up the gas tank. While clicking around the blogosphere. And no one else knows that we're doing it.

But we are doing it. We're remembering. We just don't know how to behave. We just care too much to talk about it very often.

Comments

[zombie rotten mcdonald]

Lots of people are unable to confront death. Talking to someone who has lost a loved one unnerves them; makes them squeamish.

I mentioned in a thread over at Sadly No, half in jest and half as a zombie: everything decays.

The sweet part of life, as I see it, is in what you make of it while you're here, the people you touch.

not the money you make.

Not the titles you accrue.

Not the cars you drive.

Not the important people you know (isn't EVERYBODY important?)

A story I once read, a character said "Remember the ice ball. Twenty million years or so, the sun will fade and flicker, and the Earth will freeze solid." Maybe some would see that as bleak, but I see it as an exhortation to make of it what we can, while we can.

Both of my parents passed within a short time span; but unlike my wife's father, who went through dementia, Mom and Dad were both still Mom and dad right up till their ends, which were not prolonged, and we all had the opportunity to say what needed to be said.

And remembering, and using the things they taught us, are what we have.

even if they are Imaginary digital Friends, the wisdom is no less valuable.

And, as you say; Remember.

PS. synchronicity indeed. there's a bit of remembrance at teh Empire.

[Kathleen]

I think about your stepfather and your mom too BG. I wish I could give her and you a hug right now.

[Dan Leo]

It's funny, my father was in one of my dreams just the other day, and he's been dead for thirty-five years. The dead live on in the living.

[Dan Leo]

Oh, PS, on a lighter note, and it would be hard not to get on a lighter note, I like your new blog design!

[yaya]

I feel it immensely too....I still cry...But, you know what he'd say, "Get on with it already!" No, remembering is all we can do and even smile once in a while for that is truly what he'd want us to do....Love You! Be Strong!

[Jennifer]

Things are never normal again, you just keep finding new normals.

And yes, thinking of it 100 times more than anyone realizes.

[Brando]

Beautiful post, BG. I've been thinking a lot about my grandma this past month. The thing is, I think about her life and not her death, even though seeing her at the end was such a shock. It's because she had such a great impact during her life, and that's what I'll take away.

[Brenda]

another extraordinarily moving post, BG. I read recently that when some fool(?)asked a philosopher "What is the meaning of life, sir?" The philosopher said: "The meaning of life is in what you give. When you die, if you're lucky, this is what people remember about you: what you've given." I think/I hope it's true.

[Kathleen Maher]

This is a beautiful post, BG, and may even help people who don't understand or who need to block out such drastic loss to open up a bit.

What matters is how you feel any your mother and sister and everyone who loved and misses your stepfather feels.

Cool new redesign, although I loved the earlier one. Soon, I'm sure I'll love this one more.

[Mike13833]

As Al said, through you, rememberng is the important thing . ( & you're helping the cause, increasing the remembrance of him , eh?)

I think you have it right about the avoidance. I'v found myself i that position, of not knowing what to say, and wanting to go the other way, but have fought the urge, however awkward what follows. This is a good reminder .

[Wren]

My Dad will be gone five years in May. While I think I've gotten over that heavy, deep grief that comes when we lose someone we love -- those first, awful days and weeks -- there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of my Dad, and with the thought there's this warm surge of affection and love. Sometimes it's startling. I still miss him. I think I always will.

You're right that people often don't know what to say. They don't want to seem uncaring by not bringing up the deceased person, but at the same time, they don't want to make you sad. So some of them just stop saying anything. My heart goes out to your Mom, and to you, BG. It's still raw, isn't it.

Hugs,
Wren

[Von]

I really love this post. I love the way you just lay it out there.
We all suffer losses, and really that's what we do, we Suffer them. We don't forget. And in remembering our people, we help others remember their people. And so it goes.
Lovely post, BG.