Its funny how someone’s absence in our lives can impact us, just as much as their presence, if not more. We all have central figures in our lives that at one point or another depart for whatever reason. We never fully realize how important they are until it is too late. Talking to one of my friends we compared father stories. We both grew up without this central parent figure in our life. Today, we both talk about how we are affected by their absence. My experience is quite tragic, and I will not go into that right now, but the culminating result is the person I am today. The good the bad and the ugly of it allJ.
Sometimes we are lucky to have spent significant, quality time with these persons, other times we aren’t. When they are gone memories are all we have and if we are lucky the reservoir of these memories is large and full. We can build from it a picture of dreams, goals, aspirations, pains, sorrows, a life. When those memories are sparse they leave a void. That only pictures, documents and oral histories can fill. People don’t like their picture taken, don’t want to keep mementos, live through life without keepsakes. This maybe one of the most selfish decisions we make. We leave nothing of us but scant memories in people’s minds. Perhaps we should change that. Keep journals, take photos, or write blogs. Consciously leave a piece of us so that our spirits are passed on to those who want to remember us, children, parents, lovers, and friends. I always wonder how people will remember me when I die. I know there is enough of me out there that they can piece my life together with a bit of effort. I just hope I will have time to write a memoir of a full meaningful life.