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.
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