it's been awhile...
I can't even begin to count how many times I've started a journal entry like that. I go through these phases where I want to document and remember and pour out my heart. Then I go on with life and I forget. I forget about all the good things in my life. I go through the motions. I just try to survive. I put on a happy face. I convince myself that I'm going good. I'm killing it.
Then it all hits me again. I forgot. I forgot on purpose. I pushed it to the back of my head so I could function.
When I was younger I had the best neighborhood. Everyone knew everyone. It was so safe, we never locked our doors. I could still name every family that lived on my block and the block next to us. I thought that was normal. I thought everyone knew their neighbors. I dare say I had the ideal childhood. So many loved ones and supporters. People who cared about me and my family.
There was one summer evening where a bunch of the neighborhood families came to our backyard for a get-together. Our across-the-street neighbor talked to us. He asked us "what is the most important word?" We all gave our guesses. Then he told us.
"Remember."
Remember is the most important word. In this essay I will....
Just kidding.
But really, I truly believe the most important word is remember. Rob's message sticks with me today.
Remember is hard though because there are a lot of things, feelings, I don't want to remember. It hurts too much. But you know what? I need to remember them. Because they were real things that happened in my life. They are apart of me. A part of my story.
Now I don't have to focus on the hard, sad things and let them define me. But they do put my story, personality, and actions into a real, living context.
It's coming up on 5 years since my mom died. I usually try to write "passed away" because it sounds nicer. But it's not the truth. My mom died. And that's still hard for me to put into words. It's been 5 years and I still feel like I'm in the "denial" stage of the grieving cycle.
I've made posts in the past where I've said things like "it's nice to know it gets better"....and other things to the effect of it's okay, I'm okay. Trying to spin it into something positive. However, I can't honestly think of anything positive from my mom dying. It's brutal. And I think that when someone says something positive about that sort of thing, they're lying to themselves.
To be blunt: It sucks. It's stupid. I hate it.
And that's the truth. Remembering is not a pleasant experience all the time.
Let me explain...
I have to remind myself to remember the last time I hugged her. I have to remember the phone call when my sister told me that something was wrong with her. I have to remember the long walk down the abandoned hospital hall. I have to remind myself of my brother-in-laws bloodshot eyes. I have to remember my dad holding me and telling me that she didn't make it. I have to remember seeing my mom's parents sobbing and saying "we were supposed to go before her." I have to remember seeing her, laying lifeless in that hospital bed. I remember her cold hands. I remember the smell of her usual shampoo. I remember my dad telling me to tell her that I love her. I remember leaving and having to tell my friend who drove me to the hospital. I remember coming home to make rice and wait for our Bishop to come over. I remember sitting on the couch and holding the plastic bag with all her valuables, her watch, her phone, her wedding ring. I remember sliding it onto my finger and having it fit perfectly on my pointer finger. I remember sending a tweet asking for my friends to pray for my family. I remember my best friend calling me. I remember scrambling to tell her through tears that my mom had died earlier that day. I remember crying so much my head hurt. I remember not knowing what to do or how to go on. I remember feeling like I needed to tell the world but also wanted to keep it to myself. I remember waking up the next morning to my dad making us waffles. I remember going downstairs to wake up my sister and climbing into bed with her. Hugging. Sobbing. I remember picking my brother up from the airport. I remember having to tell him the whole story. I remember watching him, defeated, bearded and crying. I remember going to church. I remember sneaking in the back. I remember the Bishop telling the congregation. I remember the audible gasps. The looks. The instant tears. The people coming to us during the meeting. Shocked. Asking "what happened?!"
I remember it all, but sometimes I chose to forget. To protect myself. To tuck it away in an effort to convince myself that it's okay. And sometimes I get so far away from it, it doesn't feel real anymore. But then, I have to remember. I have to make it all real again. I have to feel sad and lonely and lost. By forgetting I bottle it all up and eventually it explodes on me. And I lay in my bed and I just cry and cry. And my nose runs. And somehow it makes me feel better. I feel relief. But I can't possibly do this forever.
I need to choose to remember, but not let it destroy me. I think I need to learn to live with remembering. Remember is the most important word because it reminds us. It helps us feel and be in the moment. Even if that moment is in the past. Sometimes I think it's good to spend some time in the past, to remember how it all used to be. Then you time travel back to the now and you realize how much has changed and how your life has evolved. It's nice to have that perspective. Remembering puts your life into perspective. It helps you zoom out and see more of the picture. It makes me feel better and it might make you feel better too.
I still wear her ring every day. I slip it on in the morning. I fidget with it throughout the day. It catches my eye accidentally. And it helps me remember.
Don't forget to remember.
