Memories

Posted by Rebecca Thu, 24 Jul 2008 00:50:00 GMT

It’s interesting how, in the face of death, people immediately forget the flaws of the person they are mourning.

Of course no one says bad things at a funeral. This is not what I mean.

I heard a lot of people say glorious things about my grandmother after the funeral. I heard people talk about how they must have inherited this trait or that trait from her, and that’s how they ended up being the incredibly fabulous people they are.

Maybe my perspective is different because I’m so young. Maybe it’s because when I was born, my grandmother was already old and crotchetiness was beginning to set in.

I don’t remember a free spirit. I don’t remember a patient woman who only spoke kind words. I don’t remember anything like that because I never saw her demonstrate any of those characteristics.

I heard words spoken in anger. I heard words spoken in jealousy and resentment. I heard conspiracy theories.

This doesn’t mean I didn’t and don’t love my grandmother.

She was an inspiration to me. She had a fantastic imagination and held fast to her opinions. She was the world’s greatest canasta player, and had a wonderfully adorable laugh and smile. She was also incredibly difficult to be around most of the time. At least, that’s how I always felt about her.

I wonder if people only say nice things because they feel stifled by the cloud of death and don’t feel free to say anything different. Or maybe it’s because they want to romanticize the person they lost and paint them in false hues of honor and glory.

I personally would rather remember the person as a human.

The scowl and the smile.

The wisdom and the stupidity.

The love and the hatred.

It’s all beautiful.

It’s all worth remembering.

Speaking of memories, with the exception of the service itself, the time I spent with my family in Arkansas was wonderful. While we laughed and cried over old memories, we created new ones.

Here are some that are and will remain very special to me.

1) Seeing my mother’s tears after she viewed my grandmother’s body. I didn’t know she loved her mother-in-law so much.

2) Seeing my aunt laugh hard and smile a lot. She is more herself now than she has been in recent years and I’m glad to see that retirement is bringing good to her life.

3) Hanging out with my uncle. He’s uber sweet and hilarious, and somehow fits perfectly into our bizarre family. He also has excellent taste in music which made the trip up to Arkansas volumes less somber than it would have been without his tunes.

4) Celebrating the potential of the fresh life that exists within my niece and nephew. Children really bring hope into the world. They lighten the air and make it more breathable.

5) Spending a lot of time with my long-lost cousin who lives twenty minutes away from me but who I never get to see because we both are members of the same family and must stick the family policy of never seeing other family members unless it’s absolutely necessary. It was good to ride back to Austin with him and get to know him better as a human with a heart. He’s forever been that fun cousin but seeing a teeny bit of his emotional side was incredible. I was impressed. I feel like we bonded. I don’t know how he feels. He is, after all, a man.

6) Learning things about my grandmother that I never knew. Like how she was a writer. Really? I never knew this? How did that happen? Oh and like how in the 1940s she flew airplanes. How frikkin’ cool is that? Or like how as a young girl, she roamed the hills and mountains of west Texas on a horse. I never knew she had a horse. I thought she hated animals. Or like how my grandfather sang “Goodnight Irene” to her every night, because her name was Irene.

Memories can be painful and pleasant, but in the end I really think even the bad ones are beautiful. There’s a certain something in the difficulty of the human experience that doesn’t compare to anything else. Maybe it’s because during the difficult times we find out who we really are.

Gma was awesome. She contributed to the creation of an awesome, weird, obnoxious, quirky bizarre family that I’m incredibly glad I’m a part of. I don’t fit in anywhere else on earth, but I will always fit in with my family. It’s a good thing to remember.

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Can't Shake 'Em

Posted by Rebecca Sat, 13 Oct 2007 14:42:00 GMT

A long time ago, a person had a pretty big impact on my life. I didn’t know it at the time. I figured the feeling of having been affected would pass.

To some degree, it did, and I don’t really think about this person anymore.

But on occasion, this person makes their way into my dreams, and I always, always wake up distressed about it. I’m never really distressed by what happens in the dreams, which is usually some form of me trying to earn their friendship. I’m usually distressed by the fact the person showed up all, that they have the audacity to be there, still implanted so permanently into my memory.

The trouble is, I still love this person. Not romantically, and honestly, not even as a friend. In life, I choose to pretty much not have anything to do with this person. But something in me drives me to have permanent, severe concern for them. So I pray. When I have a dream about this person, or when for some random reason my memory decides to let me know that this person exists, I pray.

I started praying for this person fervently when I was about 15. I don’t pray fervently anymore, but I still pray. In praying, I wonder if I’ll ever be free of this person. I doubt that I will. I wonder if I will carry this burden with me to grave. I probably will.

I’ll be 80 sipping lemonade on the front porch and I’ll pray for this person.

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The ones I have loved.

Posted by Rebecca Tue, 02 Oct 2007 03:14:00 GMT

As I was settling into my bed this evening, ready to konk completely out after a busy and tiring day, my mind, of course, started going.

I found myself thinking about the few people in my life whom I have truly loved. I didn’t just feel attached to these people. I loved them with that truly selfless love that rarely exists. It’s not really a romantic love, although in some cases I think it could have definitely grown into that. It’s the love of never ever forgetting those people, and their essence, and the way they made your heart smile, and how you felt more like yourself with them than when you were alone. That kind of love.

Jennifer D. was the first. It was third grade. We were best friends…she is the only best friend I’ve ever had. We did everything together. She was like a lost puppy, and I looked after her. No one was as nice to me as she was. I still think about her every Memorial Day, which is the anniversary of her death. She was only on this earth for eight years. I think about how I couldn’t eat my cheerios after my mom told me she had died. I think about how, for the first time, I had that world-crashing-down-around-me feeling that most people wouldn’t feel for the first time until they were adults. I remember the shock. I remember feeling my blood run cold. I remember Jennifer’s smile, and her sweet spirit, and her brown freckles and blonde hair which was always crimped. I remember her friendly eyes and how they looked at me through her silly glasses. My heart smiles just thinking about it.

Ryan P. was the next one. I met him at Arkansas Governor’s School the summer of 1998. He instilled in me a love for physics that no one else on earth could have. I seriously regret that I lost touch with him. He was hilarious, and I could talk to him.

Aubri F. was also a friend I made at Governor’s School. She was a strong Christian, which was a new concept to me at the time. She latched on to me and we just clicked. We spent a lot of time together and she was the first girl I ever knew in my life that I could honestly cry in front of and confide in. It would be years before I met another girl like that. I wonder what she is up to now. She was fabulous. No doubt she still is.

D. Shafer was the next. He was the first guy I think I could have really had a meaningful relationship with. We were buds and had a spiritual connection with each other. He lived four doors down from me in the dorm my freshman year. We could have gotten into serious trouble together, but I wouldn’t have it. Even though I couldn’t really admit it to myself, deep down inside I knew I had massive issues. I couldn’t stand the thought of my issues ruining what we had, so I threw away my time on some other worthless guy, because I didn’t care about the other worthless guy. He just kept me company. But D. and I were different. I remember the last night we were in the dorm. My room was all packed up and his room was all packed up and every one else was gone. We layed on his bed (all his sheets were packed up) staring out the window, talking all night long. We were still talking when the sun came up, and it was time to leave. It was a kind of goodbye for us. He’s one of the only regrets I really have from college. I regret that I didn’t give him a fair chance.

Justin M. came into my life a year later. We clicked really quickly, and we still keep up. He introduced me to Braveheart, Scent of a Woman, and several others. Justin also always had a better view of me than I had of myself. I chose to push him away from me because I was terrified of becoming future baggage in his past. We had a fantastic friendship, and I didn’t want to lose it. It was strained for a little while, but I think that if were to meet for dinner tomorrow, we’d pick up right where we left off. He will always be special to me. Hell, he is probably going to read this and think I’m just being nice. He’s humble like that. Hi, Justin!

It’s funny how people leave a mark on you when you aren’t looking, and then years later, you find that they are still embedded deeply in your heart, and you have that love ache when you think of them. Time and a lot of healing and painful lessons have taught me to open my eyes. There are people in my life right now who won’t be there forever…that rarely happens. But I am wise enough to recognize that they are inscribing their marks on my heart and that I will be forever changed as a result. I am glad they are here. I am glad that I will have them to look back on in years to come.

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