There’s No One Way to Remember

My grandson, Nick, is five years old. When he visits my house, he loves to go upstairs to the attic and scour boxes of stuff that belonged to his dad as a boy. These are things like Pokémon cards, hockey pucks, and soap carvings. I tried to get my son to take them with him when he got married and moved out, but that never happened. So now, Nick loves to pick a treasure or two to take home with him every time he visits. (I’m not sure my daughter-in-law thinks this is such a great idea!)

When his seven-year-old sister Abby visits, she walks up to the attic and says, “Well, I look around and I don’t see anything I want.” That’s understandable. In her eyes, it’s just old stuff. Instead, she loves to cuddle with me and read some of her father’s favorite children’s books.

And Charlotte, his oldest sister who’s 9, frequently asks questions about her father’s childhood --- places our family visited, things he did in school, sports he played. She especially loves to hear funny stories about her dad and his father --- the Pap-Pap she didn’t get a chance to know very well, since he died when she was not quite two years old.

Those are three different perspectives on looking at the past: Nick likes the tangible items --- the stuff of his father’s childhood. Abby doesn’t care about the stuff but likes to experience some of the same things her father experienced. Charlotte likes to hear the stories.

Here’s another look at the past: Last month marked a quiet milestone in my life. It’s been two years since Grab Life by the Bungees and 50+ Other Ways to Find Humor, Hope, and Happiness After Your Partner Has Died made its way out into the world. And while I could share numbers, what matters more - at least to me - is something much simpler.

I’ve had the privilege to hear from readers, some of whom have said, “I miss him terribly. I don’t think I can ever be happy again.” But they also tell me the book has helped them get through some bad days. I’ve been honored to hear from many people --- some are friends and family; others are strangers --- who tell me, “I’ve given your book to someone who needed it. Thank you for writing it.”

When I wrote the book, I wasn’t trying to have all the answers. I just knew there had to be a way to hold space for both things at once: Grief and laughter; loss and life continuing anyway. Two years after the publication of the book, and eight years after my husband Tim died, that still feels true. It is, indeed, possible, to find humor, hope, and happiness after someone you love has died. But just as importantly, these past years have reinforced something I believe more deeply now: There isn’t a “right way” to manage your grief. There’s YOUR way.

For example, after Tim died, I searched for all kinds of ways to help me figure out life again. One suggestion that I read about, over and over again, was journaling. As much as I love writing, I’ve never been good at keeping journals. I’ll start one and write for a few days, then get bored with writing to myself, and abandon it. Journaling just didn’t help me get through the pain of grief. So, I found other ways to manage (and wrote about them in my book, Grab Life by the Bungees.)

But recently, my grandson Nick’s search for items from his father’s childhood made me start thinking about journaling again. This time, I’m keeping journals for my grandchildren --- one for each of them. After each child visits me, I spend a few minutes writing a letter to them in their journal. I write my thoughts about the time we spent together, the funny things they said, my observations of their growth.  If we visited Target or Five Below (a frequent activity for us), I list the things we bought. These written observations will be a record of the tangible items of their childhood, their shared experiences with me, and the funny stories that result from our time together.

When my grandchildren become adults, I’ll give them these journals. Years from now, I hope they find these letters to be important reminders of their growth, their relationship with their family, and their connection to the past --- much like the tangible items of his dad’s that Nick finds in my attic, or the experiences and stories of his childhood that his sisters enjoy.  

I like to imagine them smiling as they read about their own past, as seen through my eyes. One thing for sure --- Writing these journals for them has made me smile. There’s nothing better than that.