We all have memories of our loved ones who are alive
and especially those who have died. At first, after the death, you won’t be able
to concentrate enough to remember much of anything. It will take time to get
through the first few steps of your grief journey. You need to get through the
anger, shock and bitterness that this has happened to you.
Once you feel comfortable with that, think about
memories of your loved one. They can be funny stories, sad events, something
that made you so proud, some achievement or some award won. Ask relatives to
relate to you something they may remember that you can write down and come back
to when the time is right. Ask friends if your child did anything for that
friend that they thought was very nice, a holiday related story, an activity or
a school event. And in particular, ask her friends what they remember the most
about her/him. You’d be surprised how many different responses you’ll get.
Write it all down, until you get about 50 or more
memories that contribute to the overall feeling of warmth within you when you
think of your child. Keep all these memories so you can look back at them and
not forget everything your child did, not only for you or your family, but for
others as well and how much they were appreciated and loved.
A few memories come to mind about my daughter, Marcy.
She never bragged about them. They were just a natural part of her being and
she did them, as she did everything, with love and grace.
I remember a few weeks before she died, California,
and specifically the Sherman Oaks area where she lived, had a severe
earthquake in January 1994. She called me at 6:30 a.m. to let me know she was under the kitchen
table and everything was all right. I laughed since I was asleep and didn’t
even know there had been an earthquake. At her funeral, the mother of one of
her friend came up to me and said, “I wanted you to know that you had a very
special daughter. She found my phone number in Tucson and called me within an
hour of the earthquake to let me know that my daughter was safe and sound on
the East Coast where she had gone for a short trip. She didn’t want me to worry
about not hearing from her after the earthquake. I thanked her profusely, since
indeed, I would have worried. She was a very considerate, special person.”
Tears came to my eyes. Oh yes, that was something my daughter would have done
for a friend without the friend even telling her to do it! I treasure that
memory.
In another incident, this one when she was in high school,
my daughter was the champion of the lonely, of the new student no one wanted to
talk to, and of the underdog in any situation. One day when I came home, she
was entertaining someone I had never met before (and I knew all her friends).
She introduced us; I could see the girl was very shy and I could hear Marcy
telling her what to expect during the year, how others might treat her, but not
to worry. She would eventually fit in, and sure enough, by the time she became
a senior, this new student was Homecoming Queen. I’m sure my daughter was a big
part of helping her achieve that.
Finally, when my daughter and her roommate went to
buy a lamp for their living room in Los Angeles, her friend offered to repay
Marcy’s kindness of letting her stay with her for many months before moving in permanently,
by taking out her credit card first and offering it to the cashier. VISA was
having a contest and the long and short of what happened was that the roommate’s
purchase won her $1 million. When I heard the story, I said, “Aren’t you
jealous that it wasn’t your VISA card that purchased the lamp?” “Oh, no,” Marcy
said. “I’m happy for her. She needed the money much more than I did.” Such a
non-selfish answer, I thought. Would I have felt the same way? Somehow, I doubt
it.