Memories

During this Christmas break, my husband's biological mother committed suicide and it gave me pause to think about death and how it impacts everyone.  Unfortunately death by suicide creates a set of wounds that do not always heal.  There are so many questions and feeling of how you could have done something more to help them, when in truth she suffered from depression and in the end that was her cause of death.  But it also helped me to see the gift that is given to us when someone passes.  Initially, you are lost and their is a feeling that something is missing, but over time it is filtered through a set of memories.  One of the greatest parts of these memories is that often times the good ones remains.

I think about my father.  He passed away when I was 21 and it was unexpected and devastating.  He had a sudden heart attack and was no longer with us.  But the gifts my father gave me live on in my memories.  I remember the last time we met for dinner and my father told me how proud he was of me.  I think of him each time I go to the movies and how much fun we had together.  I still love to gamble like we did at the horse races when I was little.  My father taught me how to drink alcohol, so I am not someone living with alcoholic behaviors.  I am grateful for these memories.  I still love eating breakfast in the park and listening to nature.  These are the gifts of life that live long after the person has gone.  I love that over time the petty little things that I did not enjoy about my father are gone and buried, but what lives are the joyful, loving memories.  Even now if all is quiet I can still hear his voice and remember how it felt to hug him.