memories

“As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, 

it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape.”

why are memories so hard? memories are such a beautiful gift of God, truly, but such a bittersweet thing to do to look back on memories. memories are supposed to help you. you hold on to memories so tight and you never want to let them go. especially if a memory is all you have to hold onto. oh, but in the wake of your pain, when you just long to remember, and you dig up those old files in your brain, and you browse through the pictures, the piercing knife in your heart, that never really goes away, just gets deeper and cuts through yet another layer of tender and raw material.

i love pictures. i adore them. and anybody that knows me, knows that. people in my life, like my husband for example, get so frustrated with me because i'm always taking pictures. and to him, it seems like silly stuff. he hates pictures and he doesn't understand what those pictures mean to me. i have thousands, literally thousands of pictures of stephen, but i still get mad at myself for not taking more. there are months, particularly in august, that i didn't take any pictures at all. i have nothing to document that season in my life. whether something is good or bad, i want to remember it. i can't escape from my memories. i don't want to. in fact, i feel sometimes, like if i blink too long, that i will forget everything. pictures are so important to me because they help me remember. they help me remember people, and what they were like, and how i felt when i was around them, and how i felt during a particular time in my life. and i love looking back at them. love it. but sometimes, even though they may be happy memories, it still hurts to look at the pictures. 

"i don't know if today was harder than yesterday, but it was definitely on a different level. in many ways, life had to go on, and that was hard in and of itself. part of me wants time to freeze so that i can live in this moment and feel the pain. after my csection, the anesthesiologist offered to give me some narcotics to help me relax, but i didn't want them. i want to feel every last drop of pain that is going to come. i could get away from it if i wanted to, but i think that will just make it a longer process. and while it hurts, it's a beautiful form of pain. i dont know if i can describe it. it's a righteous pain, pain in the purest form. pain that is ordained by God himself. it evokes feelings and emotions that He gives us, and it's such a huge mess that He is perfectly capable of cleaning up with a holy disinfectant wipe. i don't want to miss a beat. i wonder if that is weird."

i wrote that on august 3rd, at midnight. 2 days after i found out that kristopher was no longer living. i was describing my second day without him. and i just felt so lost and so afraid that i was going to miss something. and i still, rounding the corner to 2 months later, feel the same way. i am so afraid that i'm going to wake up one morning and not be able to remember. nothing in particular, but everything. i don't ever want to forget a single moment of that first night, or the next day, or the next month. i want to remember every emotion that i went through and i want to remember every tear that i cried. i just do. i never want to forget kristopher's little face. that was my little boy. he was real, and he existed. even if it never was outside of my womb, he was very.much.alive! and sometimes i want to scream out loud. because i feel like the whole world has forgotten that i had a baby. i don't have a pregnant stomach anymore, i'm just fat. really fat. and i have no baby to carry around and give me an excuse for being fat. i didn't care how fat i was after stephen because i had this wonderful little bundle to show the world what i got in return for the huge clothes. but i don't have that this time. i don't have stories to tell about kristopher, except for stories that no one in their right mind wants to hear. but it's all i have, and i so want to talk about him. i caught myself a while ago, talking about my kids. plural. i was talking with another mom in the nursery at church and i mentioned something about my kids. and she asked, oh how many kids do you have? because most people have obviously only seen stephen. and i hadn't even realized that i had said kids in the plural. and my heart froze and i had to swallow the fact and say outloud that i only have one child. because no matter how badly i want to, i can't go around telling everybody that 'well, i should have 2, but one of them died before i even got to hear him cry.' not unless i want to constantly freak people out and have them walk on shells around me. 

that's not what i want. i don't ever want people to think they have to watch what they say around me for fear of me flying off my handle. i do pretty good at holding my composure even if something affects me. i wait until i get home and i let it out then. but i don't ever want to make someone else feel like they can't be who they are in front of me. because that would make me feel "different." and even though i am different, i'm also not. there are thousands of women that have been through exactly what i've been through, and we will never be the same, but we don't have to feel outcast by what we've been through.

so back to the memories. sorry, i got way side tracked. i long for more memories of kristopher. i wish i had taken more pictures. as uncomfortable as it was at the time, i just wish i had more to look at. i really wish i had taken a picture of he and i as i held him in the funeral home. i don't know why i didn't. that was the last time i got to hold him here on earth and i wish i had a picture. and not just kristopher, i wish i had more pictures of everybody i miss in my life. i love going to Mike's facebook and looking at all of his pictures. he had a very pretty smile and it just radiated from within on his face. you could tell that he wasn't just smiling to be smiling, but he was truly full of joy. he loved his life and he loved his family. i didn't get to spend a lot of time with him, but i did get to spend some, and i barely took pictures those few times. i had every chance in the world to snap a picture, and he would have been one that actually didn't care. i think he liked pictures as much as i do. so there's no reason why i shouldn't have. but i just never thought that there wouldn't be a next time to take pictures with him. but luckily, he was a man after my own heart when it came to pictures of himself. justin makes fun of me ALL the time because i'm constantly taking pictures of myself with my camera or with my cell phone. but i hope that when i'm gone, my son has all the pictures that he wants of his mom. especially when she was young. haha. because in truth, it's not for you that you take pictures of yourself. it's for the legacy that you leave behind. for your children, and your grandchildren, and your great grandchildren. i just got done doing an ancestry search, and do you know how cool it was to find a picture of a great great great grandparent? it's so cool. so that's why i take pictures of myself, it's not because i'm conceited and just want to see myself. if no one else is going to take pictures of me, i have to do it myself. i think it's very important. because no matter what, there is always going to come a time when a picture is all that you have. and as painful as it was taking that picture, because you think you are fat, or you are tired of smiling, or being on the camera, those pictures will be very very important to someone else.

memories hurt. they can be very painful in the midst of grief. when i look at pictures of kristopher, i hurt. and when i look at pictures of mike, i ache to the core. and then i get mad. i get angry. i want to throw my computer down and jump on it until it's a pile of tiny pieces. but even in the anger, there is a tender sweetness about those pictures, and those memories. when i see pictures of my huge pregnant belly, it's a sweet reminder of all those nights lying in bed, giggling as he kicked and jabbed me. when i see pictures of mike's huge smile, it's a beautiful reminder of the life he lived, so full of grace and redemption. and even though it makes me angry sometimes now, angry because they are not here anymore, and angry because i am broken, i know i will smile again someday when i look at those pictures. when i look at my granddaddy's pictures, i can smile. it still aches deep down to my soul that he is gone and i wish i could just see him one more time. his little leathery hands that show how hard he worked his entire life, his little jet black hair that had finally begun to turn gray at 90 years old. his little smile that broke through any barriers of negativity and made your heart smile. i miss him so much, but his picture finally brings back wonderful memories and smiles to my faces. so i know that one day these memories i'm clinging to today, will be joyous. but for now i just have to deal with the pain, because it's all part of it. i am so thankful that he made us the way that he did. emotions are hard, but they are beautiful. 

 and if we didn't have winter, spring would not be as wonderful.

“God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.”

“Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, 

the things you are, 

the things you never want to lose.”