In short, remembering someone, in thought, and action, and honoring that memory seems to be the essence of what it means to Love them. Remembering their favorite things, remembering their stories, remembering to call and check in on them, remembering dates important to them. They become unforgettable to you. Their impact on your life becomes indelible. The weight of having lost a loved one is their memory gaining a gravity you can only measure once their presence is gone physically. The space they took up in your life and imagination becomes all too real as just that, space. People live on as recollections, as ideas. That was the notion I was sharing with one of my coworkers who is kind enough to discuss such personal matters with me candidly. Much like the songs I've linked, memory can be an invigorating jolt, or a serene night listening to the rain make its way from heaven to earth.
For me, I realize I must have forgotten how to desire acceptance and love as a child does. I can thank my Great Nieces and Nephews for reminding me of what that feels like, what it means to our hearts. They catalyzed a change in me. It's been a process, but I recognize that feeling. A family member said, "He'd make a good father." not long ago in my regard. It was a high compliment, but also highlighted the reality that I'm not a father. I remember talking with my mother a year or so prior, lamenting on my solitary state of being, not having a family (other than the one I was born into) or children, nor pursuing either because of my own self-absorbed preoccupations & interests. She pointed out the very same Great Nieces and Nephews as my children in spirit, as my family, in that I can be a Father-like figure to them, even though I'm their Great Uncle. It was humbling, because it highlighted the responsibility and commitment I was avoiding in my life. I had no desire to live with the ramifications of someone else's personal choices. I was subject to them so long in life that I developed a perhaps unhealthy apprehension for co-dependence on any level.
But who wants to be truly alone, with no one to reach out to, no one to share the beauty of life with? Who wants to live a life without someone they want to honor, to make joyful with their accomplishments and expressions of affection and appreciation? It took being a part of the formative years of young lives to remind me that the answer to those questions was not Willie Edward Smith Junior. It took embracing the memory of my own formative years, happy and sad, after the loss of another soul who took part in defining them to bring me back around. Sometimes remembering is the only way to come back to feeling, to being human. It can be emotional, but it's what we are. I have grown to cherish every opportunity I have to share these recollections of experiences and emotions from my own growth, and the growth of the children I have played a small part in raising. The people who have been generous with their time, their thoughts, and their own recollections have taken up real estate in my heart because it's allowed me to remember what love is and how essential it is to our beings. It's an incredible thing, like swallowing the warming light of the sun and shining it on someone. I see why we try and pretend it doesn't exist when it's not present in our lives, or the situations we wish it would permeate. It's not something you soon forget.
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