I have lost a number of very good friends over the past couple of years. And I have mementoes from three of the women in my study. From one a rock, from another a book and the third, a pin. I find myself looking at their pictures, holding their remembrances, and feeling their presence in a very distinct way each time.
I think of these women, and my mother too, as the angels who hover around my shoulders at good times as well as difficult times. And actually, I have very few difficult times any more. I’m inclined to think it might be because I have the protection of Joy, Cate, Beverly and mom, particularly mom who shared a secret with me, one that put closure on an earlier chapter of my life and hers. That secret became the glue that drew us into a relationship so sweet.
Having arrived at the threshold of 75 nearly takes my breath away. How could the years have passed so quickly. Death may well be 20 years from now, and I hope it is if my health holds, but most of my life has been lived. Regardless. I remember so well 2nd grade, Miss White and the point of her pencil pushing against my scull. I begged to get out of her classroom. No dice. And I can’t forget Mr. Priest and the 6th grade picnic at his cabin on the river. I got the worst sunburn of my life, perhaps because I insisted on wearing the halter my mother said was too bare.
I couldn’t stand clothes touching my shoulders for days. And remembering the first bonafide date with Steve, the love of my life in high school, still makes my heart race a bit. Like so many other girls in the 50’s, I was sure that if he and I married it would be forever. It was never to be, of course. Most high school romances come to a necessary end.
All things have their end, in one respect. Experiences. People. Sometimes relationships too. I don’t mean for this post to be maudlin. On the contrary, I think that what lies ahead in this life, or the next, will be greater than my heart or mind can currently imagine. I don’t think of my loved ones on the other side as shadowy figures but vibrant still, just living life in a different form. To some this may seem crazy, but it fills me with joy to remember Joy, her laughter, her sense of humor, the way she had of bringing dark experiences into the light of acceptance. We laughed with her. I still laugh with her when I recall some of her stories. And I have a strong sense that she hears me. I think actively remembering our loved ones who have passed into the next realm keeps them “working” on our behalf. And I, for one, figure I need all the help I can get.
What are your thoughts about dying or the dead who have passed already? Perhaps no one has so pointedly asked you this before, but digging deep to reveal our inner thoughts in this later stage of life is good for us. I’m sure of it. Do you consider the dead as “helpmates” for your journey here? I like the belief that our opportunities to help others and be helped, in return, never end. What a delicious thought.
Whom do you remember dearly? And why?
