| Remembering
is such a special thing. At first, you feel and remember only the grief, the loss like a throbbing dome of pain over every thought, every recollection. Remembering is such a special thing. After a while, you try to remember only the nice feelings, the good times. You fight yourself if memory tries to bring to mind anything unpleasant. It feels wrong to think of something not perfect. You remember big events, great successes. She was the most wonderful child in the world. Remembering is such a special thing. It takes time before you manage to recall without discomfort that you were sometimes angry at her, or disappointed or bored with her. It takes even longer to realize that such less than glowing recollections make no difference to the way you love her. And then, at last, your memory allows you to have the whole person with you -- all your thoughts about her are comfortable and comforting. Your dreams about her begin to include scenes from everyday life. -- That is when memory lets her be with you again, completely and truly. It may sometimes hurt a little, bring small reminders of your early grief, But most of all, it feels warm and tender and real. Remembering is such a special thing. From the book KNOWING WHY CHANGES NOTHING by Eva Lager with Sascha Wagner, 1997. Options Publishing, 6, Meredith Way, Dianella, W. A., 6059 Australia
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