“The time is ripe for looking back over the day, the week, the year, and trying to figure out where we have come from and where we are going to, for sifting through the things we have done and the things we have left undone for a clue to who we are and who, for better or worse, we are becoming. But again and again we avoid the long thoughts….We cling to the present out of wariness of the past. And why not, after all? We get confused. We need such escape as we can find. But there is a deeper need yet, I think, and that is the need—not all the time, surely, but from time to time—to enter that still room within us all where the past lives on as a part of the present, where the dead are alive again, where we are most alive ourselves to turnings and to where our journeys have brought us. The name of the room is Remember—the room where with patience, with charity, with quietness of heart, we remember consciously to remember the lives we have lived.” ~ Frederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember; Uncollected Pieces
Can we talk for a minute? There are times to be quiet, to process, and to come to terms with a new reality. The tornadoes, the bombings, the school shootings, the factory collapses, and all of the other natural and man-made disasters – it’s a lot to take in.
Part of grieving is remembering. Could you tell me about your children jumping off furniture, running through the house when all you needed was quiet, or telling you silly knock-knock jokes about bananas that made no sense?
Could we sit together and go through your memories of him as they pour out of your heart?
The talking and sharing won’t heal you. It won’t make you feel any better. But the talking and sharing need to be done. You can’t avoid it. You might think you’re making me uncomfortable with your tears. But you’re not.
It’s the silence that’s uncomfortable. I know you need to remember and to talk.
I love you. I want to listen.