This post has been preying on me for some time. It’s difficult to write. Difficult to share. As time goes on it becomes more important to me.
When I first started this blog it was my way of leaving some of my stories behind. I don’t have children , so there is no “legacy” to speak of. I have family and friends that I see less and less as life goes on. Writing out my stories seemed to give me a chance to be remembered. In 2015 I came across a quote from the musical “Hamilton”, (a play I have never seen), delivered by Lin-Mandel Miranda…
“Let me tell you
What I wish I’d known
When I was young and
dreamed of glory
You have no control
who lives
who dies
who tells your story?
But when I’m gone,
Who remembers your name?
Who keeps your flame?”
This strongly resonated with me as I wondered who would tell my story and keep my flame.
More recently, the episode of “NCIS” that dealt with the death of actor David McCallum and Dr. Donald “Ducky” Mallard, his beloved character on that show, hit the point spot on. It was called “The Stories We Leave Behind” (yes, I plagerized the title for this post). I confess to being one of the vast number of females having a crush on David McCallum since I first saw him play Illya Kuryakin in The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I was heart broken to hear of his passing. In the episode one of the characters quotes “Ducky” with this gem,
“We all die twice, once when our bodies give out, and again when our stories stop being told. ” He goes on to say,
” I suggest we keep the doc alive by telling his stories.”
That was it for me, I didn’t stop crying right up until they brought back the character Anthony DiNozzo Jr. played by Michael Weatherly. He states,
“All the stories, it’s all we have at the end, right? Just the stories we leave behind.”
As I write this, it’s Mother’s Day. We lost my mother when I was 12. She was 42 and her name was Muriel. I question if I told her stories enough, or if I told them well. In all honesty, my stories of my Mom come from the memories of a 12 year old child and may only be accurate to me. The rest of the stories have all come from other people and as I retold them I may not have done them justice. I do know she was a wonderful Mom and loved us unconditionally. Every time I hear a “new” story about her, for a brief moment, she comes to life in the telling.
About nine months ago we lost my nephew, Andrew. From the day he was born that child lived in my heart. I can not explain how much it hurt to lose him. I didn’t give birth to him but he and his sister, Ashlee, were the closest thing I had to having children of my own. The pain is real. Circumstances made it difficult for all of us to grieve properly. Worse of all was no one was talking to each other about him. In my heart I felt this made things harder for all of us. One day I came across an ad for creating memory books and decided to do that for Andrew. It took me longer than I thought it would as I had to take a lot of crying breaks. It included pictures I’ve cherished over the years and a sampling of the stories he and I created over the years. As I worked through the book I realized how theraputic it was for me to remember him this way and to write about him. I ended the book with a plea to remember his stories and talk to each other about him. I made copies for family members. For some it was helpful. For others, they are still unable to look at it.
More recently (last week) we lost my niece Jamie. She was 46 and spent the last 8 years living her best life while battling agressive cancer. She fought to watch her two sons grow and graduate and become men she was proud of. She was pretty active on social media and had been sharing her travels both literally and health wise. Her stories are being told now and I hope will continue to be told for a long time to come.
The stories. They are so important. Of course I have to go back to TV now (we all know that’s what I’m all about) when Tony DiNozza asks “all the stories, it’s all we have at the end, right?”. He goes on to add,
“I wouldn’t say only that, we also have the lives we touched while we were here. The people we leave behind.”
Keep the people who have touched your lives alive and tell their stories. I would love to hear about them.
♥️
I am sorry for your losses. I wonder though about the stories. I heard something recently that resonated. In 100 years no one will have heard of you or will remember you. I’ve tried to keep my son’s memories alive, but none of my extended family or friends ever bring him up to me, I don’t understand why. When your child dies, you want to keep their memory alive and want to talk about them. It’s not as though I break down crying when I talk about him. People are odd. They don’t have emotional intelligence.
I believe that’s true about the 100 year thing. It scares me but, I think it’s true. I also agree with what you said about people not having emotional intelligence. When you talk about your son, or your husband I consider it an honour that you are sharing that with us. In my case, I really want people to talk about my Mom and Andrew in particular. The other day a family friend was visiting my sister who lives with me. She popped into my room on her way by. She spotted the my necklace I had on and asked me if it was Andrew. I said yes (it has his ashes in it). She came right in, (she never does that), reached for the necklace and kissed it. All I could do was say “Thank you”. For that brief moment he was there because we were acknowledging him. It’s means so much. You can tell me about your son any time. I will listen.
That’s sweet about the family friend. It doesn’t scare me about not being remembered because I believe there is an afterlife, not like what religions teach though. I don’t think much of what happens here on Earth matters, except how we treat each other.
I should add, unless of course you’re famous in some way.
Even fame is fleeting. You can mention a movie star from 20/30/40 years ago and a younger person will say, “Who?”
Michelle …. Thanks for telling me about this at my end. I’m glad I came over before replying. There is much here that I can relate to. We don’t have kids either – and I’ve also had similar thoughts. We’ve lived through our nieces and nephews, but they are 3+ hours away – so the connection isn’t as tight as I think.
Yes – who is going to tell my story? Personally, very few – so I know I’ll fade away quickly. I have similar thoughts of others when I visit cemeteries.
Cheers to you for doing the memory book for Andrew. I’m sure the process did you a lot of good …. but others will appreciate your effort in time. Well done. Thanks for sharing!
Frank, I believe your words will keep you in mind for some time. I know I appreciate them.
This is a heartfelt, beautiful, poignant post, Michelle. So much loss… I’m sending you my virtual hugs. Your point about keeping stories alive resonates with me. Whole human lives are individual stories, but how soon we forget them unless we choose to keep them alive. The one thing I can say is that your stories live in me. I won’t forget them. I feel like I have been reading your stories for years now, and they are a part of me now. Bits of my writing echo things you have said. I don’t know how to quantify that, but I’m so glad for your stories, and so eminently grateful for a friend like you.
Trent, I saw this come in and read it right away. It made me cry. I decided to wait to reply so you would get a less emotional answer. You have always been so kind and supportive of me and you will never know how much it has meant to me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.