Unpack it

Remembering is to begin the process of grieving. I read this somewhere. Made a note of it. Then forgot about it, because I was so busy remembering.

I was doing it innately. I am a person who likes to reminisce. I am nostalgic. If you are in my circle, you will often hear me say, “remember when.” And if you are judging my literary skills when reading this blog today, I will warn you now that a version of “remember” appears here 19 times. There is no way around it.

So, yes, I do a lot of remembering of Tim. I also have the benefit of social media – Facebook and Timehop memories. It’s how I start my day with my first cup of coffee. While I appreciate and enjoy the “anniversary of-memories”, sometimes they are accompanied by sorrow. 

It’s mostly the realization of time marching on – every day is a day further away from those live events and moments. There is that feeling when I look at “on this date” and say, “damn, that was x years ago?”

It’s important to know the difference between being stuck in the past, pining for it, and wishing it could be like it was. That isn’t healthy and it doesn’t work. I see remembering as an essential part of continuing to live. To live with my past in a healthy way. To cherish it. To move it forward with me.

When I think of Tim, I remember things we did together both big and small.

I remember watching him interact with other people.

I remember our routines.

I remember meals he cooked.

I remember things he used to say, quirks and facial expressions.

I remember things he did that I didn’t understand.

I remember our travels.

I remember ways we supported each other.

I remember ways we disappointed each other.

I remember our dreams that we didn’t quite get to; turning our mountain property into a destination for kids with limited exposure to nature, or buying a home in Sedona, or opening a Pizzeria called Double O.

It’s all there.

I have also learned through grief that when others remember with me, it makes me very, very happy. If you share a Tim story with me, no matter how minor you may think it is; or if you ask me to share one with you, these moments will always put a smile on my face, even if through tears, mine or yours.

I guess, in part, remembering is important, because I just don’t want to forget – it is a fear, the longer Tim is gone, the more time that exists between me and those memories, they start to fade. They just do.

And remembering keeps me in check. I had a relationship with this person. We were not perfect. We learned from each other. During our sixteen years together, we did part of the work that we were put here to do. His is done. Mine continues and it continues with everything that is already part of my past. What do I do with it as I go forward?

At times that can feel like a burden. I’m still here. But mostly, even in moments where it feels heavy, it is simply a gift. Our life together, is a cherished gift that cannot be taken away from me.  I carry an intangible suitcase with our shared life in it. I unpack it. Use it. Refold it. Repack it. And even as the memories get wrinkled, and they will, they will always be part of who I am.

Two years ago on this date, as I held his right hand, and dear Isabella K held his left hand, we supported Tim out of this life as he took his last breath. Sincere love and gratitude for the friends and family by his side sharing this sacred moment: Leyla (Tim’s greatest love), Monica, Bill, Tom, Bryan, Amy, Isabella, Judy and Chuck