On First Memories:

This morning even before my eyes were open I found myself counting ‘Firsts.’ The first time I saw my baby. The first time he smiled at me. The first time he rolled over. First step. First day of school. First lost tooth……

Oh no! I can’t remember him loosing his first tooth any more!

The gap gets bigger. The space between him and me.

Before he died when I would forget something, I’d feel bad for a few seconds and shrug it off. “It was making room for newer memories.” I’d say. But I can’t make new memories with him now. So it is just sad. Like the chipping away of a statue eventually it looses form. I gather things like pictures together to remember things better. I keep the pieces in case they can be glued back on.

Yes, I’m getting older and also have memory problems since the chemo. I expect to loose some memories. But I try hard to hold onto the ones of Shining Son. First scraped knee. First curse work. First fight. He was not an angel. He was just a baby, a child, a teen , a man.

Pictures help some. But we didn’t have a lot of money for pictures when the kids were young. And after that I just wasn’t in the habit of taking them. Most all my memories are only in my head.

I have the first rock, a pebble really, that he picked up on his first walk out of the carriage in the neighborhood as a toddler.

I don’t have as many things as I would like because the building that his apartment was in had a fire before we could get all his things out of there.

But none of these things can replace him. I don’t look at them much any more. Each night I hope he comes to me in a dream. But there he most often comes as a child. I’d rather talk to the man.

I put away the box of things. I say goodbye again. Nothing has changed except I now know that I can’t remember him as well as I thought I did yesterday.