One of the things that becomes painful after losing loved ones is when you start realizing that your memories are fading. It’s a troubling and very painful secondary loss that can hurt as much as your primary grief.
Right after losing someone, you promise yourself that you’ll never forget them. Then time sets in, and you realize that you have a little less left every year. Photos and videos take you back; but the little things that tied you together become fleeting memories rather than touchstones.
I can still imagine touching Fred’s cheek and feeling his whiskers, but recreating the sound of his voice in my head becomes more elusive each year. Likewise, I never thought I’d forget how laying my head against his chest during a hug felt; but, I can no longer create an image of him in my mind, and see and hear him as clearly as I would like.
I was extremely close to my grandparents Cook; and 20 years after Papa’s passing and 17 years after Nana’s, I not only miss them; but, I miss my memories of them. They are more abstract to me now, and that's a gut punch of a feeling. For whatever reason, even after 9 years, I do better with my dad. I still feel his presence very strongly and for that, I’m grateful.
A book I just finished reading on grief said “our grief evolves and grows with us as time goes on. Sometimes that means finding new points of comfort and connection, and sometimes it means stumbling upon new losses.”
I seem to have stumbled again. As time goes by, I some days feel so far away and disconnected from my own past that I feel an intense desire to go back and refill my memory reservoirs. I’d love to repack myself full of the smallest of things, like the smell of my Nana’s kitchen, the softness of Papa’s blue work shirts, and the sound of his laugh.
More than anything, I’d like the ability to recreate memories of Fred in my mind and actually feel, see and hear internal pictures of him again. I still throw on his old shirts and jackets just to feel a little hug. I know that our brains save us from anxiety and pain by sometimes storing our memories away from easy access. It’s a delicate balance between living in the past, and moving forward with our memories intact.
I like a lot about my life in the present, and I fully accept that Fred and my other loved ones are gone from this world. I guess I’d just like my memories of them to stay more intact and accessible. I would feel more comfort if I could easily access them and sometimes wrap myself in those memories like a warm quilt.
I always assumed that I’d lose my memory gradually as I aged, but I’m just 62, and no one tells you when you're young that everything in life can sometimes change in an instant. That one day, you may realize the people and places of your past feel like they're no longer completely yours. That realization hurts.
I try not to get angry that I can’t remember things and people that have passed on; but, it does feel kind of like a chronic pain when I reach for those people and memories and find them gone or much diminished.
People in my Griefshare classes have shared that they sometimes struggle to remember the past and their loved ones. They connect to an idea of their loved one but struggle to access specific memories of them. Sometimes this is because their memories have faded over time and sometimes because they had limited memories in the first place.
I know that a fear of forgetting your loved one is something that folks early in their grief journey worry about. I sure hope that my musings today don’t exacerbate that fear for anyone else. I do know from experience that everyone grieves differently, so there’s no guarantee that anything I’m feeling will be another’s experience. I also know that when I’m struggling to remember, there are positive ways to connect to our pasts that seem to jog our memories.
Look at old photos or videos.
Cook one of their recipes or favorite meals, because there’s nothing like smell or taste to bring a memory back to life.
Talk with people who knew them and loved them.
Go to special places that remind you of them.
Hold or wear an object that was theirs.
Write or journal about your loved ones and favorite memories.
There’s no easy answer for how to move forward after loss. Gradually losing our memories is as much a part of life as it is about loss. All I do know is that just like most of us do our best to rage against aging by exercising, eating right and staying mentally active, it’s just as important to employ those tools in the maintenance of our memories.
Finally, I remain very certain that when my work here has finished, I’ll be reunited with Fred and all those I’ve loved. In that moment, I know I’ll remember everything important and recognize each of them and the love between us.
Kris Stewart is a rancher in Paradise Valley, Nevada.