Every grieving parent knows how memories can be both our greatest delight and our sworn enemy. The former will bring joy and fondness and bathe our day in happy reminiscing. The latter slices a knife into our already aching hearts. The fact that the catalyst is one and the same, having power to comfort or destroy, hints at the dangers of memories. We begin to think of them as land mines, avoiding memories at all costs. Why else would it have taken me three years to clean out my sons room? Why would I look at boxes labeled “Luke’s college writings” or “treasures: Lucas. SAVE” and shudder, knowing full well that I lack the physical and emotional energy to confront whatever these boxes contain. Why would my Vilomah–grieving mom-friends flat out refuse to go through their child’s belongings, or move households, or in some cases even enter their deceased child’s room. For years?
My hope is to make friends with memories. Allow the feelings to ebb and flow. Realize that nothing is either black and white, that every life experience can be viewed from opposing angles. Ultimately, I want to LOVE and LAUGH when memories of my son drop in unannounced. When a seemingly innocent Facebook post “we thought you would like to share this memory” doesn’t wrack me with sobs, as I mourn the loss of my beautiful child. When dusting under the little ceramic toothpick holder he made in preschool–so flawed and charming–brings a smile instead of a tear, as I think of his chubby little hands forming, and later messily but lovingly painting the cylinder.
This week a Ninja memory snuck into my day. While putting away Christmas ornaments (I know, I know, I left them out WAY too long this season, but then again I haven’t even done any decorating since that fateful day in 2014) I came across a wooden canoe paddle made by my son at summer camp. His name Lucas Boyd burned by his own 11-yr old hands into the handle. The ‘L-u-c’ confident and bold, followed by a tentative rush of letters ‘a-s B-o-y’ and a flourished ‘d’ almost like relief at the end. A treasure that I could NEVER get rid of. Along with the ceramic toothpick holder (now containing Angel Cards), a High School project on Tibet (written by LC Boyd), a grocery list (circa 2013) ‘chicken, eggs, milk, OJ, salad. Lamb, lobster for special occasions’ and a hurried note to self (same year) ‘Learn to cook Thai food!’ followed by ‘Best moves to capture the King’ (in chess) along with a cryptic series of letters and numbers.
Do these memories make me smile? Certainly. But often, the tears flow. It can be challenging, at times impossible, to Keep my focus after a visitation from my son. Still, I hope these Ninja Memories continue to sneak into my mind and day. Tiny little reminders of a time when life was fine, whole, and tangible.