I Will Remember (and Quietly Celebrate) You.

It's just a matter of life and death.  Don't take it so seriously.

                                                     Seriously.

     
        This time of year tends to be a bit rough for me.  From the latter half of October, through the first part of January, there is just a barrage of anniversaries, holidays and other remembrances that keep me in a whirlwind of emotional upheaval...and that's not even counting the shorter, colder, darker days and such!  Between my body and my mind, I have a lot of things that keep trying to shut me down, this time of year.

        However, as the years move forward and I am able to survive an increasing number of such things, I have begun to learn, grow and gain new perspectives on the whole thing.  Part of this has to do with the one that I remember today.

        My mother was born on this day, many years ago.  She had an unbelievably difficult life; some of which I've covered already.  I have spent most of my own life trying to come to terms with a loss of her that happened decades before she left this earth, and how it - and she - has all affected me.  While she wasn't around in my life much after I was old enough to really remember her, there are a few memories I hold from before the rift when I was 12, I have always simply termed, "the divorce".  Even having these memories in my possession has been a cause for struggle, because I was taught to believe things about her that weren't congruent with what I remembered; a difficult place for a young girl at the age of beginning to define herself, to be.

        However, throughout my life, even after the divorce and having been put at odds with her, most of my most treasured memories are of her sweetness, and especially the way she and her voice would sparkle when I was around.  Yes, when I was little there were a lot of moments when she was shrouded in darkness and was distant, but as I've grown older and hopefully wiser, I choose to see those things as part of a whole; a bigger picture that reflects her as being a human being who made the best of the rough baggage she was forced to carry.  After all, I am her child, and I have ghosts that haunt me, now and again, too.  

        But oh, my mother's sparkle!  Even toward the end of her life, when it was hazed by the brain damage of severe, long-term alcoholism and mistreatment by abusers after the divorce, and she moved and spoke incredibly slowly due to her bone-thin, fragile body being full of pain due to at least severe osteoarthritis and likely other factors, when she spoke to me, it was full of that sweet sparkle.  

I can still hear her voice calling me "Maggie" and "McGee", 

which for some reason she loved to do.

I can still see her making jokes and laughing with my parents' friends, 

at adult parties I really shouldn't have attended, but I was a good kid, 

so apparently nobody minded my being there.

I can remember her taking me from school for "an appointment", 

but really it was an appointment for a picnic with her in a local canyon.

I can remember playing dress-up and parading around the living room 

with about 30 hair-do thingies in my hair, 

to her generous approval.

I can remember her strange sense of humor, 

when she nicknamed my poodle, "Boogers"

...which stuck, much to my father's chagrin.

I can remember what I now see as small attempts 

at trying to give me positive memories of her, 

so that when all was said and done, 

I could remember things like this, 

even despite all the painful ones.

        It has been 7 years since the moment she left this earth.  It has taken me that long to get to the point I could think of her without wanting to push the memories out of my head to protect my heart from the pain of it all.  That's a very long time to put off grieving properly, someone who deserved to be honored for the war she bravely fought alone for all that time!  Granted, there is a rather long list of reasons, but that is beside the point!  I'm just grateful for being able to do it, now.

        Every year, when anniversaries (birthdays, etc) come around, I try to honor each one in some way.  Often, given my lifelong addiction to music, it comes with a song that strikes a chord that particular year.  This year, the song that touched me while contemplating this anniversary with her, is Sarah McLachlan's "I Will Remember You".

I will remember you, will you remember me? 

Don't let your life pass you by, 

Weep not for the memories 

I'm so tired but I can't sleep 

Standin' on the edge of something much to deep 

It's funny how we feel so much but cannot say a word 

We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard 

[Chorus]

I'm so afraid to love you 

But more afraid to lose 

Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose 

Once there was a darkness 

Deep and endless night 

You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me life 

[Chorusx2]

 Sarah McLachlan; "I Will Remember You" © 2004 Arista Records, Inc.

(From her YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B51hO8McLbs )

        I am so very much a reflection of what my mother was.  But that can be seen as as much a good thing as not!  I know the generation of adults at that time, knew her in ways I can only begin to imagine, but I can't help but add to the opinions I've received of her, my memories of her.  As I am now an adult, and have a more complete view of the situation, I can choose to take what I wish from her memory and make of it what I like.  

        And what I choose is this: to remember the darkness as a reminder of what this life can do; and to remember the light as a reminder that even in the darkest night, there are still stars, even if they're tiny and far away.

        Quite honestly, I think if more of us made that choice regarding the complex memories of our lives, we would have a lot less painful memories to go around.

         Better day, my friends.