I watched this movie tonight called “Evening”. I don’t know if any of you have seen it but, it’s one of those movies that if you pay attention to it, it will make you think and that’s what it did for me besides being a very good movie. It’s about a woman who is dying and, in the times when she is unconscious, in her mind she goes back to living her life in the past when she was younger. In the present, she has two grown daughters and when she is in and out of her conscious state she says things that don’t make much sense to her daughters because they never really spoke to their mom about her life. But, the woman knows what and who she is talking about. Like most children, she was always just, their mom. Forgetting that she was also a woman who had a life with all the things life entails just like for you and I . What saddened me about that was, here was their mother dying, she was saying names of people she knew asking where someone was, talking about what she had done and neither daughter understood any of it.. How sad.
This got me thinking about my own mom and the last months we spent together while she was dying of cancer. We lived together so we had many talks. Some were just simple everyday talks but then there were the ones that were deep. The kind that leave their words on your soul. Those are the important ones. Somehow when someone you love is making their journey Home, those talks become very clear and you realize when you reflect on your own life, and you will, nothing else seems to matter much anymore. No longer do the cars you have, the home you have, the amount of toys you have matter. They lose their value. The conversations you have with your loved one who will be leaving you soon become very real and very clear and most important than anything else that will be going on around you. It’s almost as if for the first time, you understand the english language even though you’ve been speaking it and hearing it all your life. Your sense of listening is heightened to a level thats it’s never been at before and you hear everything and it sticks with you. Even the small conversations because your soul realizes that these words will be the last and it’s as if by some blessing sent from God your soul opens up, and is able to withstand and take in every last word. It a truly amazing thing in a time of such sadness.
Then I got to thinking about myself and it made me sad. I don’t have any children. I have no one to leave my precious memories to. I have no one to tell about my life and all its sorrows and joys, all the loves and friends I have and have had. Who will I leave my memories to? I thought about writing a book but, unfortunately I don’t know how to and anyway, who would buy it?
So I guess what this post is really about and for is all of you who read it. If you have children talk with them. Tell them all about your life. From the oldest memory you have right up to the newest ones. Tell them about all the people who came and went in your life and those who stayed. Tell them about all your good and bad experiences. Tell them about you LIFE. If your children are to young to understand then write them a book. I’m not saying you need to be an expert writer but make a diary or a series of diaries. Start from the beginning and leave nothing out. After you pass away trust me, they “will” want to know all about you as a person and not just as their parent. I speak from experience.
I was blessed over the years to have been able to know my mother not just as my mother but also as a woman who had a life before me. She had loves and sadness, happiness, let downs, joys and friends and a career. She had a LIFE and I was blessed enough to learn about it before it was too late but I was not so lucky with my Dad. He passed away when I was only 9. I was a little girl. Too young to have been able to understand if he was to have told me about himself. He was only 36 when he passed away and I’m sure he didn’t think he would die that young so there was no memoirs or anything left behind. Sure, I have some memories although, not a lot because of my young age. I have stories that were passed down through the years from various family members but, the one thing that hurts the most is I never got to know who my Dad really was. What kind of man he was, what did he like, what didn’t he like, what was his life like before he was a husband, father and provider. Thats one of the regrets of life and I wish with all I have that I had been given that chance to know him as a person. This is why I urge any of you who read my blog, if you have children or anyone who loves you. Start writing because when your time comes they “will” want to know.. and then you can give them the gift of being able to see through the fog….