Memory Chain: Post Your Memories

After reading John D. Moore, PhD's blog post last Christmas 5 Loving Ways To Remember Someone You Have Lost This Christmas | Reaching Life Goals, I thought that it would be nice if we could make our own "paper" chain of good memories here. It doesn't matter whether it's one word or a thousand. So, without further ado, I present The Memory Chain.

My parents loved each other so much. They were the golden glow at Thanksgivings and Christmases.

My brother, who died at age 9, was a fearless explorer and loved to explore the storm drains that ran under our city. Much to our mother's chagrin.

My first boyfriend always smelled like incense and vanilla, because I would give him backrubs using vanilla lotion, it was his favorite fragrance, and I loved looking at all of his freckles, anyway. Whenever we cuddled and watched shows together, it was just a sea of blankets and freckles. I didn't go to his funeral because I was so angry. But I was so angry because he robbed the world of all those freckles, and much more, instead of getting help. This time of year when the breeze is warm and the smell of incense rises in my room, I can't help but think of all those freckles. I miss them and I miss him.

Being around my Aunt M.A. was like being in the presence of a human sunflower.

My mother was kind and loving person who was always there for me.

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My mom believed she was a bad cook. Totally not true.

My dog, Petey, taught me how to laugh again. He was so funny and so full of life. He was like my child and best friend.

(i love this idea!)

i called my grandma 'na-na'. that was just what i called her from the time i was small, and it just stuck. anyway, i liked to stay the night at her house a lot and she always liked to have me there. she'd make pizza and i'd watch cartoons and sometimes we'd walk to the store, nothing fancy, but it was always a good time. not long before she died, she got out a photo album and we looked at pictures together - this was the first and last time that happened. no one suspected she'd die only months later.

i miss you na-na.

The night my brother died, my "Aunt" Peggy and "Uncle" W. came to the house and brought us home to their apartment. They made us feel safe and loved. On the day of my brother's funeral, my "Aunt" Peggy kept us at her and my "uncle's" apartment b/c we didn't want to go. We were making cookies or a cake and I accidentally called her Aunt Piggy. I didn't think of her as being overweight, though she was a little. At that age (6), I didn't realize that it was wrong to call someone Piggy and so kept calling her that. So we joked and laughed about it. When I talked to my mom on the phone and told her my new name for Aunt Peggy, my mom was not pleased, but Aunt Peggy assured her everything was OK. I loved the two of them so much. They died years ago. My uncle first. My aunt told me that they read a letter I wrote them to my uncle before he died. I didn't even know that he was sick; I'd just written them a letter out of the blue. It was the first time I'd written in a couple of years. They were such beautiful souls.

My first PNurse was such a caring and strong person. I was an inpatient on the adolescent ward of a private psych hospital. She quit her job in the middle of her shift b/c of the way we were being treated. As she left, she gave me her number and we stayed in touch for a few years. She became an Episcopal priest back in the '80's. I'm posting her name since she has been gone for a long time and she deserves to be remembered. She never had kids, nor was she married, as far as I know. So....

R.I.P. AMY MABEL LARKIN

My dad had a wondrously analytical mind. Though it wasn't so great if you weren't his partner when we played spades.

For my fifth birthday, my mom made me a birthday cake with a doll in the center and the cake was the dress. She had my party at the pool. She made a lot of cool things. She was more talented than she knew. Way more talented.

My dad died last year. He was my rock and I miss him everyday. He was not one to say I love you much. But a couple of days before he died he grabbed my hands and looked into my eyes and said I love you so much stubby (his nick name for me). I spent those last weeks and months with him just about everyday in the end he insisted that I sit in this certain chair. I later learned he wanted me to sit there so he could look at me when he woke up and when he fell asleep I miss his so much

my best friend, when he was lying on his bed said as his last words, and now for the start of my long vacation.

i am never ever going to forget that- ever.

such touching and sad words

My dad was a mentally (and physically) strong man, but he wasn't ashamed if he cried during a movie.

The last time I saw my brother alive was on my 16th birthday. We were at the hospital visiting my mom and I'll never forget when he told us it was time for him to leave so I stood up and we walked through the halls of the hospital catching up on the news in eachother's lives and we stood infront of the elevator doors and something felt different. I didn't want him to leave and I saw something in his eyes I had never seen before that I don't know how to describe. It was like my gut was trying to tell us that we would never see eachother again. We never used the words bye to eachother, bye just always seemed like it was permanent so we would always say see you soon, which were the last words we ever said to eachother. I'm 25 now and I remember how his laugh and smile would light up the room. We had a really screwed up childhood and our other siblings seemed to cope with things better, but even though he was mentally and emotionally struggling with me, he would still always listen to my rants and was there for me through anything and everything. He was everything to me. It was him and me against the world with a united front. He was my hero, my best friend, the only person in the world that I would trust with my life. I miss him more than words could ever describe.

My best friend's warmth was so evident that he could get away telling people the most honest things, with his smile and his loving eyes.. things they would never have put up with someone else saying. We were all who knew him, better people for his presence.

My grandma on my dad's side and her sister lived together for years and years. They were total opposites, but so cool together.

When mmy mom was really happy, she'd get this big smile on her face and kind of bop along. Then she'd hug me and make this sound and tell me she loved me. I miss that so much.

My late husband.. so many things. The way he never took a shot at me when I was down, but was always there to help however he could. How willingly he shared his knowledge with me, patiently teaching me all he knew and being only proud if I happened to surpass him in anything. The way he took me at my word, respected me unfailingly. The way he cried tears of joy on our wedding day. The tenderness with which he always approached me. The way he remained my greatest friend long after we became partners. The way he's forever raised the bar for my expectations, even though it's made it pretty impossible for me to be able to move on. What a jerk!

When my brothers and I were young, my parents would take us on drives and tell us we were lost. Pretty sure we weren't. They just liked to take us out. I'm pretty sure that some of these trips were around Christmastime, since they also always took us out to look at Christmas lights.

the North Carolina vacation that I went with my dad before he died . never forget that memory .my mom making the holiday food and having the holidays at the house.










Diagnosis: Anxiety and depression
meds : Cymbalta 90mgs at night
Vistrail 2 25 mgs daily for anxiety prn
50 mgs at night for insomnia

My parents gave me a world where I made sense.

I really got to know my baby sister when she was 12 and I was 18. She was in crisis because she was being bullied at school by all her supposed 'friends'; I was in mental health crisis (which I didn't know at the time) and drug and alcohol withdrawal (which I also did not understand). I had agoraphobia and spent a lot of time in my room with the light shaded so it was very dim. She used to come in every night and play cards with me and we'd talk. She'd tell me about all the things they were doing to her at school and I would build her up and tell her not to believe it because it wasn't true, and they were only mean to her because they had low-self esteem and that she was better than them. We developed a Friday night routine of going to the general store and buying little bags of penny candies, and then going back home, lighting candles in my room, laying across the bed and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on my old black and white TV.

For years afterward, once I moved out of the house, apparently she kept my room exactly as it was because going in there and having memories of me was the only time she felt safe.