Yesterday my husband’s family lost another one to heaven. I remember looking at my husband when he told me and thinking, “It’s going to happen more often, isn’t it?”
It is.
Today’s angel had a belly laugh that could inspire an entire room to hilarity.
I can see clearly the first time we met. I was around 19 years old. She was married to my husband’s cousin. The family was gathered around my mother-in-law’s table as they so often were. Donelda was laughing. The family was telling a joke that involved a spring-loaded ring box and D’s left breast, and she was laughing. With her entire body and soul, she was laughing.
The world will be a little less for the loss of that laugh.
The laughter came from shared memory. The whole family got the joke. They were there, and they revelled in the silly things that had happened in the past. (The stories may, or may not, have grown a little over the years.)
Those shared memories are so incredibly fun and good for the soul.
We are losing them. More and more often, we are losing them, these people who “remember when.”
I came from a family with some fragmentation, and walking into this family of shared memory was an undiluted joy.
The first time the loss of shared memory hit me was upon looking at my family’s picture and realizing I was the only one in that picture left. My half-brother remains. He is 18 years older than I and raised by my grandmother in another province, so although we have shared memories of “Granny,” we have little of shared “growing up” memories. ( I mean, he was grown up before I was born!) Although he is developmentally delayed and suffers mild dementia, I have made a point in recent years to mine him for stories about our grandparents. I have learned new things, and we have laughed a little.
He is on dialysis now. He may live some time, or he may not. This last connection to “remember when” will be a tough one to lose.
When my husband and his siblings get together, there are always stories accompanied by laughter. I envy them this. Some of those stories involve the cousin who lost his wife last night. The families lived close together and gathered regularly. (weekly, I think!) They built memories together. When they grew up and got married, they attended each other’s weddings. More story fodder created. (I seem to recall some fine wedding stories involving my husband…)
One brother-in-law had a scare with his heart last year; another is a cancer survivor. My husband has survived one heart attack. And dementia runs in this family; will some of these shared memories be lost? My sister-in-law is trying to document their history. She is blessed with distracted siblings who don’t always get her the information she needs. Lord help the woman, but I hope she gets it down and captures a bit of the essence of “them.” I have enjoyed “them.”
Lacking family, I have a friend I met when I was 11 years old: my first “real” friend, best friend…pseudo sister. We were lunatics, and the memories make us laugh. Those midnight giggling talks…she knows stuff about me that others do not. This past year has been a struggle with us landing firmly in opposite camps regarding the COVID19 pandemic. There’s a line in the sand of an almost 50-year friendship, and it breaks my heart. I hope someday we will be sharing memories again. I miss her.
Shared memory.
As soon as we can safely gather, let’s do more of this. (or let’s do it 6 feet apart in the backyard for now). Less talk of politics, less talk of today’s woes. Let’s share memories in front of the next generation, in front of those that marry into our families. Let’s soak in these moments, and when our people gain their angel wings…we will remember their laughter.
Rest easy Donelda. I’ll listen for your laughter in the summer breeze.
Path to Pasture 