Treasured Memories

To lose everything you ever loved or worked for and seeing it passing away before your very eyes as some  people did during the floods, is much like a deathwatch. Many of we elders have sat by a bed and held a hand, knowing that a life partner's end is near, very near,  and that when it happens, others will tell one to "let it go", "tomorrow is another day" and to "move on". None of these words meant in kindness, really help. They are usually spoken by those who have not been there, as you have. They're easy words to say, but impossible to follow. A friend of mine whose husband died, wore his sweaters and she was told at a counselling group for widows, that she should not wear the sweaters because they weren't allowing her to "move on". Moving on, is something different for everyone and there are people who do not want to "move on". They are happy to cling to memories because it gives them great pleasure to recall their past. And what is the harm in it? There are others, who cannot move beyond recounting their grief at loss to anyone who will listen. A very old man once opened every conversation with "I lost the wife, you know" and he found great solace in hearing back, the comforting words.  One person who lost family members decades ago, found his  comfort in relaying his losses to anyone who had also, and would join him in tears and hugs of grieving. Another individual "moved on" too quickly for his family's comfort, and they told him they would never forgive him. These examples are real and tragic and happen every day. They are about people, not things and "things" can be replaced we are told.  But to see your house filled with all your very personal treasures that took a lifetime to gather and are revered, but that are now sodden in muddy flood waters racing by, is worse. Much worse.  In the event of death, you  have memorials and funerals and gravestones and wakes, but when your home is ripped from you, there is no celebrating the terrible loss. Tomorrow comes and you are forced to wake up and start all over again. There are many tales told about the disasters but few that last beyond a few days. The media, now a  hungry monster in our midst, one that consumes us and feeds on us, and we it,  forgets and soon moves on for further events to report. The media monster seeks more prey and those who suffered the losses must depend on the more patient writers and documentarians to tell their stories of reclaiming lives once again, their trials and successes in rebuilding. Those with this sort of loss, are left to remember their past good experiences and treasured memories, to find the strength to build a new and hopefully, better life.