Memories

I am so thankful for so many good memories of people I’ve loved.

This month some of my friends (both face-to-face and blogging friends) have lost people dear to them. It’s difficult in the immediacy of loss to feel anything other than the “gummy arms” of grief around you.

I was thankful to be of service to a technophobe pal who asked me to scan in some photographs of her friend who had died after a long and debilitating illness. She wanted to take copies with her to the funeral. The photos helped the grieving husband to remember his wife as she had been before illness took her from him, long before death did.

The anniversary of my father’s birthday reminded me of his wonderful sense of humour. He died of a sudden heart attack many years ago. A neighbour brought round a cake she had kindly baked to help feed all our visitors. When we finished the cake, we saw that the plate she had put it on was from a charity advocating healthy eating to prevent heart attacks. She was embarrassed to realise what she’d done, but we explained how Dad would have roared with laughter at the irony.

I had my garden remodelled a couple of years ago with money left by my Aunt, and I’ve remembered her so much as all the new growth has sprung up the last few weeks. She was an indefatigable gardener herself, creating a beautiful green space from rubble when she bought her first (and only) house. Her visual sense, self-discipline and love of creatures was evident in that garden.

And on Mother’s Day in the UK yesterday, I thought of my Mum’s warmth, sense of duty and her wacky sense of humour. My sister and I sometimes think she is influencing us from the afterlife as we feel compelled to do the sort of weird and wonderful things she did to amuse us. I’m talking about being seized with a sudden desire to put a newly washed pair of underpants on like a hat and dance around the living room… No wonder I’m eccentric!!

My very earliest memory is as a very young child crawling through my parents’ garden eating chives that were growing there, convinced that because I was crawling, I couldn’t be seen. They say that as you grow older you remember more and more about the early part of your life, and I’m looking forward to that. I hope I don’t lose my loving memories completely.

Just a quick edit after first posting this: thinking about memory I’ve realised how evocative smell is in bringing back times, people and places. When I was very little we lived next door to a small tomato nursery and when I occasionally come across a tomato that smells as they should, rather than of nothing, I am immediately transported back to those tall fragrant plants with their furry stems. And the smell of freshly-ground coffee from the shop Mum used to wheel me past in my pram (accompanied by my imaginary friend, a pink pig called Henry!). The smell of the city the first time I visited New York. My first really sophisticated perfume: Guerlain’s Shalimar. Church incense. Cannabis smoke (well I was a teenager in London in the late 60s… and yes I did inhale). Frosty air. Roast dinners. Frying onions. Fresh-baked pain au chocolats. Oh yes, I’m on a roll here…