| My mom is the little blonde second from the left. One more was added to the family when my mom was in high school |
We have all had those experiences waiting for the memories to fade.
In fact, people will tell you that the memory will fade someday.
People will promise you that someday you won’t think about it every second of every day.
Who hasn’t had their heart broken or a dear friendship fade or lost someone dear to them?
I can remember feeling relief when I came to the place when a hardship didn’t cross my mind every day.
Then there are the memories you want to hold onto and you can see them slipping away.
No matter how hard you try to chase after them and keep them in the forefront…their memory fades too.
My Grandma Jeanne passed away seventeen years ago.
I was named after her and her creative gifts have inspired me since I was a little girl.
I have tried to incorporate some of her beautiful day to day details into our own home and life.
I am go grateful for those little daily reminders of her and how she made life lovely.
Other memories are starting to fade.
Memories I can’t put into action.
I have long since forgotten the details of her face without looking at a photo.
My memories of her play through my mind like a flickering movie.
Off and on. Off and on.
I will get a visual of a moment with her but it is only a glimpse.
I will remember being a little girl in her navy blue Mercedes with white leather interior.
Was it white or is my mind making things up?
I can remember the smell and remember what it felt like being there….but I don’t remember why or what the whole story was.
I am left with a lot of those.
Moments.
Moments where I can’t find the whole story anymore.
And then I am afraid I will forget all together and they will be lost.
She played such a huge part in my creative dreams as a child.
She didn’t even mean to.
She didn’t talk to me about living a creative life.
She lived one.
She didn’t talk to me about music or art.
She had it playing throughout the house and hung it on the walls.
There are those memories that you want to let go of and hope they will fade into a distant memory.
Then there are the other memories that even though you long to hold onto them you know you can’t hold on forever.
I have already forgotten little details about my babies.
Some days I tell Kelly I would give almost anything to go back to holding each of our children when they were little.
When I feel like I am losing perspective and forgetting the details I go back to videos and photos.
They are my memory keepers now.
I do that with my Grandma Jeanne too.
I put in one of her CDs or look at photos from my childhood with her and then my memories starting flooding back in.
What are your memory keepers?
How do you keep beautiful memories alive?
My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and I know the day is coming when she won’t recognize me or talk on the phone, so I save all her voicemails.
This is so lovely, Jeanne. Thank you for your beautiful words that spark our own memories:-)
I have lavender and roses in my garden. The women before me where gardeners and my great-grandma loved lavender especially. That is what she smelled like and the soap and sachet we bought her every Christmas. My grandma taught me to sew. Each time I sew, I think of her. In your wonderful classes, I have done image transfers of them and other ancestors and added them to books. I collected needlework that ancestor women did and have it framed and hanging in a little room where ancestor photos hang. That is my memory keeper.
In little ways. I made my daughter who has fur babies, artsy tags embellished with lace from her Grandma’s blouse for Mother’s Day. Three days ago when celebrating our 52nd on a garden patio chose Liver, bacon, mushrooms and mash cause it was Mom’s favorite! Use her china to remember her at Thanksgiving cause it was also her birthday!
Oh my goodness. I can’t even. My memory is so shot. It really bothers me. I need videos, photos, belongings and other people’s memories to jog my own. I believe it’s due to the PTSD I’ve suffered from. My husband and I grieve at the complete opposite ends of the spectrum. I want to remember and he doesn’t… well, in the case of losing Amanda, he just can hardly go there. It’s such a massive loss to lose a child…
My Grandma Blanche painted fine porcelain and when I was small, she was my first art teacher and began a lifelong creative habit, one of the defining characteristics of my life. When I use the botanical cups and saucers, plates and teapots we’ve both painted and the garden just beyond my studio door, I’m reminded of that heritage of beautiful art made and used every day. Like you, I’m grateful for a grandma who inspired me.
Although I am 66 years old, and my Nana died 42 years ago, I still think of her everyday. She was a lifelong artist. My first art memory, is with her. I remember when I was 3, feeling extreme happiness, gluing various dried beans onto a board, at a low table in her entryway. I can still picture the beans arranged in small bowls, and the black and white checkerboard linoleum tiles on the floor. I remember the excitement I felt when she taught me to carve my own lino block, and make prints, when I was 8. My most treasured material possessions are her wood cut prints, watercolors, pen and ink drawings, and large midcentury collaged acrylic paintings, hanging throughout my home. The same painting she had hanging over her sofa, when I was a small child, now hangs over my sofa. It must have been her favorite too, as she never offered it for sale. Now my grandchildren gaze at her artwork, as I tell them my memories of their beloved great-great grandmother, and they make art with me.
The timing of your story is amazing. I just finished writing a letter to my one year old granddaughter. I wrote it to accompany a painting I made for her based on a vintage garden map. In the letter I talk about how I plant things in my garden to hold memories and people close to my heart. The plants don’t always survive but I continue to replant, and remember. I write about my great grandmother who I didn’t really know but only have a memory of her garden and how it inspired my imagination and creativity. I write about my grandmother who also taught me to sew and make “crafts” but never spoke about creativity. My hope is when my granddaughter is old enough she will know me and understand me a little more through the painting I made for her.
My friend of 50 years just died and each day is still difficult. We texted each day to just to say good morning, and how are you. We had long talks on the phone all week long. She was the kind of friend that you could talk to about anything whether it was personal or the world challenges we all face. Recently she needed 24/7 care givers and I would go for 2 hours every Saturday to sit with her to give her care givers a 2 hour break. We talked, reministed, laughed, shared family stories… The 2 hours became such a blessing of rememberance of a special friendship. You asked what keeps memories alive…it is the gift of time. Just knowing that were able to sit together, to enjoy the memories of our friendship, and to find joy in the everyday.
Joanne
I have my parents perfume I spray it on there shirts so I know there still with me etc … I have all my parents picture books my mom made etc and I have pictures of my parents when they were little I’m starting to put them in sketchbooks and doodling etc and writing down the things they would tell me about when they were alive etc since my family is the last generation I’m trying to keep these things for our children so they have to tell there children
My paternal grandma spoke Norwegian and was fair skinned. I didn’t know her well. I have memories of the home she lived in. It no longer exists; an apartment building sprawls across the spot where the home and fruit trees once filled the space. It was a small home where my dad’s large family lived. Her name was Anna, and my strongest memory was how frail she was as she was afflicted with Parkinson’s disease. I never knew my paternal grandpa. He died when I was a baby. My maternal grandparents played a big role in my life and the lives of my cousins. The homes they lived in were small, but no matter the size, their homes were always the place where extended family gathered. My memories of them are extensive and cherished. Grandpa’s name was August, but he was always called Auggie or Dutch. He was of small stature but had chiseled muscles. He chopped wood for a wood burning stove they had in their kitchen and for entertainment. He loved working in the outdoors. Grandma’s name was Mary. She had an upright piano bought for her in her youth. Both her and grandpa often played tunes for us. Grandma grew rhubarb in her small garden and made the best pies. She always wore a dress, and it was strange to see her in pants. She wore overalls over her dress when blackberry picking or gardening, but jeans when she worked at the cannery. She was in an auto accident with Bing Crosby in her younger years. My mind and heart are full of memories of them both. Your comments could have been my own Jeanne. Heartbreak and trauma linger but precious memories of our children fade no matter how hard we try to hang on to them. I too wish to hold my daughters and grandchildren as I did in their youth. Such precious moments and joy!
Your post made me feel kind of weepy thinking about my loved ones who are gone. Photo albums are such a big deal to me and framed photos, as well. I also have my parents and grandparents handiwork all over my house. I have cross stitch things my grandma did, and a basket my grandpa weaved. My mom left me a bunch of quilted wall hangings she made (which I’m going to frame some of them) and my dad was a prolific creator, so I have his carved ducks, watercolor and acrylic paintings, wooden bowls he made, and leatherwork scattered around my house.
Dear Jeanne,
What a beautiful question! Thank-you for asking it!
For me it’s photographs. I make an album of each year, adding words of how I felt at the time, what happened etc.
And I take a lot of pics! I create a ton of ‘celebration’ moments with those that I love and for myself and document each moment. And I take pics each day of the beauty that I encounter or create. All of it goes in the album.
And I look at ‘Facebook memories’ daily and remember the moment that it speaks of.
I seem to have a very ‘visualize’ component to my memory field, smiles.
Sending so much appreciation your way,
Hugs, Tanya
I have old rose petals in a carved round wooden box. My grandmother raised me and she used to grow roses; she would take the faded ones and collect the drying petals and put them spread out in a drawer to dry to have a scented spot. I collected some rose petals a while back and put them in the round, small wooden box to remember my grandmother by. The round, small box I keep to remember one of my sisters, who lives faraway, by, I smile when I think of this or when I happen to notice I still have that box and it still has petals inside.
My husband and I are starting a collaborative project to find pictures of our children and grandchildren and narrate a story of what we remember about them. Things to ponder from my perspective. Stories that I can recall from their childhood that are now starting to fade. I want them to remember us as parents that loved well and enjoyed moments.
We have just begun the planning. I’m not sure how to execute this. I’m not much of a Shutterfly gal. So, for now it will start on a word document with pictures attached.
I guess you could say its story telling through pictures. When you see a picture there is always a story. I thought I’d experiment with a picture to see if this felt right. It was amazing and a beautiful experience.
My best holidays it was m’y grandmother ‘s house. It was a little house with a little garden, at the end of the road, in the country. Now, there are houses everywhere. She made delicious jam with peches from her garden. Every time, when I see forget-me-nots in early spring, I think of my grandmother. She had full forget -me-nots in her garden. Its curious ! While translating “myosotis” (in french), I see “forget-me-nots ” in english. That ‘s exactly it. The myosotis are here for not to forget my grandmother ! FORGET -ME-NOT! Every year, and forever, forget -me-nots will grow in the gardens in memory of my grandmother.
Peonies and pansies, hearts and stars, Moon gazing and each of the four seasons, Boston accents, photos and candles, and small objects that are unimportant in themselves but hugely important to me. A seashell. Some songs/musi. Filling my senses with these help keep the memories alive and I get whooshed over in a wave of love. I feel those beloved souls behind me are encouraging me to draw and paint, sing and dance, to love, to care, to be happy. I know that they are all with me as I carry on with my journey in this life. Small reminders are very important to me.
Wow, you just landed in my Inbox with your sale- And I’ve supported you thru your book writing and way back prior to JO network. This post sounds as though you are dealing with some form of brain altering early onset dementia. I certainly hope not.
Praying for you, and your family.