Memories

Memory is a very curious thing.  I have struggled with the memories of the night of our accident.  They are sharp and menacing.   They are filled with a keen recollection of how cold I felt, even though actual temperature was really only in the low 50’s or upper 40’s, which isn’t super cold by Montana standards.  But it was humid with moisture in the air and a breeze.   The visions that were played out before me have not faded in sharpness or cruelty.  The sounds of crushing metal exploding against each other as our vehicles of impressive size collided at speeds above 70 miles per hour still ring loud and clear in my mind.  If I could will them to lessen I would, but for now, for this season, they remain sharp. 

On the other hand, the memories of my grandma’s voice have faded.  My grandma was beautiful.  She was kind and warm, and she had a bright smile.  Her skin was olive and was so soft one could barely feel it under their fingertips.  Her eyes were a deep dark chocolate brown.  She was generous and loved people so very well.  It didn’t matter what time of day I rolled out of bed, she would make a fresh hot breakfast for me, from scratch; whatever I wanted.   She lived next door to me, and I was blessed immeasurably by her.  She’s the reason I wanted to be a doctor, as I spent hours of my childhood pouring over her nursing and anatomy text books.  When I was a little girl and had sleep overs at her house she would tell me stories of growing up during the depression, of falling in love, of raising her children and of nursing school.  I can remember almost everything about her, including how safe and loved I felt when I was with her.  But I cannot, no matter how hard I try, remember the sound of her voice.  If I watch a video of her, the sound will fill me up with joy, but then days later it will be gone again. 

I would love to be able to decide which memories I could turn off and those I wish I could leave on.   But that is not how this life works.  So instead of sadness that I cannot hear her voice anymore, I am thankful that I fully remember how she made me feel while she was still here and how vibrant she was.  She would be proud of the woman I have become.  She would be celebrating each of our victories these last 4 months.  She would be cheering us on as we continue to take these steps towards wholeness.  She’s been gone for 11 years, and I miss her so.  I am so thankful for the years that she was in my life, and I am certain that long after the memories of our wreck begin to fade, the memories of her will stay strong, as they are tender and warm and make me a better person. 

Grandma Bobby, I love you.  You were simply amazing.