Weep not for the memories: Joy, you're gonna carry that weight...

My son, Seth A. Miller 4/9/81 - 4/14/08

(Originally posted 718/14)  Tonight's Friday Night Thought Tale Hour with the Hendersons was temporarily interrupted to bring me a message.  I had a beautiful and plucky message planned out, all around making a difference in small ways that can bring sweeping changes.  It was terrific, but I'll have to save it for later.  You see, I was gifted today with the amazing portrait you see to the left, and my thoughts just haven't been able to get off of it.  So instead, please allow me to share with you yet another in the ongoing journey of a life touched by that inevitable occurrence that each of us must face.   That moment in time when someone we cherished dies and the threads of the moment becomes a cloak that we put on for the rest of our lives.

You just can't shake it off...

When I looked into the eyes of the portrait, my own eyes welled up with tears, and I swear I heard the words, "Come on, Mom, shake it off..."  How many times I said these words to Seth when he was injured in his ongoing quest to get everything out of life. Yes, I quelled the tears and replaced them with a smile, but here's the rub: This kind of loss is just not something you shake off.  The harder you try, the more you only injure yourself with the shaking.  You can make yourself feel better, like I did today, putting on Saturday Night Fever LP and discoing through the house singing, but you won't be able to throw off the weight of the reality that they are not coming back.  I'm an expert in helping people forget that I'm nothing more than one of the walking wounded.  I fill my life with as much laughter and real joy as possible and stand firm in the face of ceremonies and memorials.  So many like me out there and each of us is one glimpse away some time from wanting to flee.  But no, you don't shake it off.

You learn to wear it with squared shoulders and keep your knees soft...

Ever carried a massive backpack up a mountain trail or pulled a really heavy wagon?  That's kind of what significant loss feels like.  You do what coach told you, 'square those shoulders and keep your knees soft.' You never know when you might have to fall down on those knees and take a breather.  But the best news I have is that you do get stronger and more flexible as the time goes on.  And when you do have to take a knee, you find you can get back up a lot faster.  It's that thing that no one can tell you when it happens because you can never imagine it, but it's true. Yes, you're gonna 'carry that weight' as the song goes, a very long time, but you can choose to let it make you stronger. So when you get something like a beautiful portrait that captures the essence of your beloved one, you once again say, "Yes, I will always remember you."

Weep not for the memories...

I hear people say 'he's in a better place,' and while I nod in affirment, sharing a moment of spiritual faith, my flesh groans because the only better place it wants is here with me, alive. But that is not a reality, so we fill our lives with his memories and talk about them often.  This portrait brought back many, many of them for me today, and I suspect it did the same for a multitude of his family and friends.  As time passes, you resolve not to tarnish those golden nuggets of their time with you with the saltiness of tears.  The memories cannot make you weep, they must serve to bring you smiles, head shakes, and laughter.  This is why you gift others around you who are the walking wounded when you share a memory or a thought about their loved one.  Never hesitate to act on that.  If it brings you joy, it will bring them great relief.

Thank you, friends, for reading these thoughts, and I hope that they give you insight or comfort, depending on your understanding and experience.  One last thing.  Please do me a favor, and rather than send me a note of encouragement or symbol of support regarding my grief journey, take a moment to communicate those thoughts to another in your life that has experienced this kind of loss.  It's the quiet and stoic ones that probably need you the most.  This vocal ball of boisterousness has her fill for the day. So lift a glass with me, and enjoy a moment smiles.  CHEERS FRIENDS.