Remembering

Remember me
Though I have to say goodbye
Remember me
Don't let it make you cry
For even if I'm far away I hold you in my heart
I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart
-Ernesto’s song from Disney-Pixar’s Coco

Fall in Kentucky is something I have been looking forward to for months. The oranges, yellows, and reds of the maples is exactly why every yard should be full of these magnificent trees. (Not that I have a favorite tree or anything) I revel in kicking my feet through the fallen leaves and hearing them crunch under my steps.

Yet, for all of the beauty, there is also the very real understanding that soon all of the leaves will be gone. And we will be left with bare trees and brown grass. If I’m not careful, this emptiness will awaken feelings of sadness and longing within me. Both for what was and what seems so far off and unattainable.

I was talking to a new friend last week, and she made the comment about how difficult the changing season is for her. Her husband died several years ago. Since then she has noticed that when fall weather arrives, there are days when she just feels sad. She remembers her husband and what fall used to mean for them.

The end of October is a bittersweet moment for those of us who grieve. On the one hand we see the beauty of the changing seasons all around us. On the other hand, there are also reminders all around of who and what we have lost. For parents who have had a child die, dreams of what were supposed to be, or what was, makes watching other children dress up heartbreaking. Traditions we continue from our childhood make us wish our children had known our grandparents, aunts, uncles, and others who made the season special for us but have passed on.

I can’t undo the losses each of us have lived through. I can’t bring back those whom each of us are grieving. However, I offer these thoughts, and I pray they provide some comfort.

I have come to believe that the line between the living and the dead is much thinner than we think. After studying the beliefs of several different cultures and religions, and how they stay connected with their ancestors, I have found some peace in the thought that death is not the end of our connection with each other. Because our connection is not based solely on physical presence. It comes also from our shared experiences, advice given and received, laughter, and tears. We continue to carry our person with us when we remember our times together. We continue their presence when we speak their name and share stories about them with others.

It’s why we visit a cemetery and places from our childhood. Why we share stories about the people and places who have helped shape us into who we are today with our children. It’s so they will be remembered past us and their stories continue to be told and remembered. The good and the bad. The heartbreaks and the celebrations. The relationships we would relive without hesitation, and the places that taught us hard lessons.

When we share the stories, we continue our connections long past our separation.

On November 1, the Church celebrates and remembers those whom we hold close in our hearts, even if we cannot hold them in our arms. Whether you find yourself in a church this weekend, or you are elsewhere, find someone to share stories with. Speak your person’s name so others can know and remember them along with you.

If you’re wondering, it’s ok to speak to your person. You aren’t weird or crazy if you do so. Fix a cup of their favorite tea or coffee and tell them what’s going on in your life. Ask them for wisdom with something you are struggling with. Laugh while remembering their silly moments. Cry when you remember their struggles. And be open to cardinals appearing, wind chimes tinkling in the breeze, or a feeling of peace letting you know that your person is still close.

One more thing… I would love to hear about your person. If you would like to share, send me an email at denise@findinglifeinloss.com. It would be an honor to hear your stories and get to know your person.

Remember me
Though I have to travel far
Remember me
Each time you hear a sad guitar
Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be
Until you're in my arms again
Remember me