I don’t want to forget them.
Some people don’t cry at all. Their shock is paralyzing. They position pictures of their deceased loved ones everywhere and force themselves to remember everything just so they won’t forget them……but they hold back the tears. They simply refuse to cry as if somehow not crying will keep their memory from breaking or prevent their loved one from being disappointed in their lack of strength toward their passing.
Others cry all the time repeating over and over, “I don’t want to forget them.” Their shock is generating a flood of emotions in an attempt to keep their loved one’s memory alive.
Neither is healthy.
There were times I wore myself out trying to remember baby Jalon’s face, his giggle. How I longed to even hear him cry once again. Fortunately, just one year prior to his death, we purchased a video camera and shot lots of film footage all year long capturing some of the greatest moments a mother could ever have hoped for. One such moment was actually capturing Jalon’s first walking steps. He was sitting, then he pushed himself up from his knees and walked two steps. And I got it all on film! I watched it over and over just grasping that brief moment in his life.
Then I went to the other extreme of putting away all the photos. Nothing shared his face because I couldn’t bear his absence any longer.
Watching the video over and over and over in an attempt to keep Jalon alive in my memory while simultaneously remembering not to place his bowl and spoon at the dinner table was unbearable.
I needed another means to celebrate his life without destroying mine.
So I helped myself in different ways. First, I had to come to grips with the wonderful thought: “I will never be able to completely erase Jalon from my memory.” How can you carry a child for nine months and think you’ll ever forget that life that moved inside you, and then cried and giggled for 2.5 years later? In fact, I don’t have to do anything to keep Jalon alive. He was here and now is in heaven.
Second, I meditated on the reality of heaven and what it must be like and how wonderful it must be for Jalon.
Third, I granted myself special celebration days where I wore a special bracelet or t-shirt bearing his name or a unique icon memory of a moment with Jalon. I didn’t tell anyone about this; it was simply my way of enjoying his memories without succumbing to a never ending grip of grief and taking everyone around me down, too.
If, on my special day the tears came, I let them flow. If tears didn’t come, I simply allowed myself the privilege to enjoy the memories as they were for that day knowing tomorrow would come and I would be okay.
I can tell you as time moves on, Jalon’s memory has not faded at all. He’s still very clear to me. I can still hear the little song he used to sing (off key) and it makes me giggle. I don’t remember to wear the bracelet or t-shirt anymore; but I haven’t forgotten my baby boy. Sometimes I still have moments when I cry at the timeless memories, and yes, I still allow the tears to flow. Today, I’m comfortable that life lives on through my tears, my laughter, my memory of Jalon Micah.
Now, you share!
