He has been our neighbor for eight years, though he has lived in his home for many years prior to our arrival to the neighborhood. He knew us as Cheryl and Dion but now calls us “neighbor.” The other day, he came over to meet our new puppy and to thank Cheryl for putting his newspaper on his front door threshold every morning. He asked her what her name was. As he walked back across the street after our visit, I thought he likely forgot her name before he made it home. The next morning, 13 hours later, when she went over to his house to move the paper from the driveway to the doorway, he came out and asked her name. Not only is his memory diminished, but also his memories are vanishing.
He has been a widower for at least a decade that we know of. On their morning encounter, Cheryl asked him old his wife was when she passed away. “I don’t know,” he replied. He does remember, quite clearly, that his son is looking at moving him to a home closer to where he lives. That angers our neighbor. “I own this home. I built this home,” he said.
Memories of moments are treasures. Some are lost by lack of attention to their importance, and some are taken away from us due to injury or disease. The treasures are sources of joy and wisdom, beauty and knowledge. We should cherish them while we can and share with others to keep them polished. Ideally, they can be preserved in stories, images or videos. Such recollections are not just for the famous; they are important for families, too.
More than 20 years ago, I created a program called “Memories to Memoirs” to help seniors re-discover their memories by using a process that I created. While some attendees had the goal of writing their memoirs for publication, most merely wanted to see their life anew and to share with their family the story of their lives. Some discovered new understandings of what their lives were about, many saw life’s challenges as growth moments, and new understandings of their faith were common. Memories were discovered to be treasures that increased in value when evaluated anew.
Of the books I have written, my greatest joy is Daddin’: The Verb of Being a Dad. I valued it initially as a tribute to my dad (me, being a son to a father) and to my sons (me, being a father to three sons). Over time, I have come to better appreciate that in those stories are recorded memories for when I get old(er), for when my sons grow old, and for my grandchildren to see the youth of their fathers.
Our memories can be taken from us slowly, as has been occurring for our neighbor, or quickly. They are taken not just from us, but from those we love, too. Share them. Preserve them. Grow with them.
Contact me if you would like to bring my presentation or workshop to your community, library, organization or congregation to help others see their lives anew and to empower them to save their stories.
Have you caught the latest weekly musing from The Year of 70: Decades of joy and thanks?