Remembering when

This past weekend was everywhere devoted to remembering lost lives. When someone close to us dies, no matter the circumstance or reason, we strive to remember their face, see their smile, feel their touch, and even hear their voice. We think our hearts will break, but they don't and, somehow, we continue to live life and find joy withou our friend, lover, parent, brother. This past weekend was everywhere devoted to remembering lives lost. Next weekend another remembrance will take place in San Francisco at the Aids Memorial Grove. It is the 20th anniversary of the founding of the grove. Volunteers work to maintain the grove and to remember and heal their broken hearts. Through the years of my own life the list of those I fear to forget grows longer. When a name is added, there is renewed pain from previous losses. Sounds gloomy, but it isn't all tears and fears. Once the initial pain eases, I begin to remember the good times, the way he made me laugh, the camping trips, the skiing trips, the late night conversations and the early morning breakfasts. I remember his first visit to my family of origin in the rural south - a mixed race couple with a baby in the 80's - may as well have been the 60's). I remember the courage it took for him to be there with us and the courage my grandmother had when she walked into church on Sunday morning holding Robert's arm. I remember the pride he felt when his children made a goal or an A or walked the stage for a diploma.
If we are lucky, the one we lost remains with us because we choose to commemorate in some way their existence. Sometimes privately, more often publicly, memorializing the life they shared with us. We plant trees, build shrines and monuments. We scatter ashes and place flowers in special places. We write poems and tell stories about our time with them and we give away money in their honor. Remembering in this way helps me to heal the wounds. It eases the pain and brings me joy and peace. The heart and soul of a relationship are not lost when one person dies, it certainly changes and then it takes creativity and imagination to refocus the relationship and, in doing so, build new ones. I think of the healing power of collective remembering which I witnessed this past weekend and I feel a renewed energy and commitment to this cause for which I write and dream.