“God gave us memories…

… That we may have roses in December.” ~J.M. BarrieNot my photo

I believe memories are like books, when we wish to relive a moment we can just pull one out of the shelves in our brain and open it to our favorite chapter. Sometimes those moments are foggy, like when the printing on a book starts to fade. Sometimes the memory is so cherished we pull it out over and over again, we re-read it so much that the pages are falling out and the words practically say themselves. I liken this to a memory that is so loved that it pops into my head without conscious thought.

The moment I would wish to relive a thousand time over and over has nothing to do with regretting my actions. I wish to relive this moment, because I know for certain I never can. Actually, there are two, both of which include my Grandfather who died a little under a year ago. I will only mention one.

We go to stay with my grandma a lot, several times a year usually. That’s not hard to do since she only lives about 45 minutes away. The last few times we went I walked with my grandpa around his neighborhood in the evening. He was working on losing weight and I took any opportunity to spend time with him. We talked about his work, about politics, about photography, sociology (he was a professor of sociology at a university), about t.v. shows we liked, about computers, people in general, about books, movies, foreign languages, about everything.

On the trip out that sticks in my mind the most, he and I saw a “Lost Pheasant” sign, stapled to a light post. We joked about this quite a bit. Actually, it was almost all we talked about for the remainder of our walk. When we had gotten back to the house, on our way up the walk to the screened in porch, Grandpa put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed tight. “You know I love you so much? Don’t ever forget that. I wont be around forever, so remember I love you,” he said and kissed the top of my head. I laughed and told him he was going to be around for a while, but that I loved him too. That was in the last week of October 2009, he died the 17th of March 2010 – about 5 months later. If I could go back I would. I would walk with him over and over again, I would joke about that lost pheasant until I ran out and then I’d start repeating myself. Although I would love to relive that moment, or at least have the opportunity to make new memories, I am extremely grateful for the ones I have. 

“A million words couldn’t bring you back, I know because I’ve tried. Neither could a million tears, I know because I’ve cried.”

Riah Chelle