Hide A Memory

Ever want to skip a day? Make the past obsolete in your memory bank? I pondered it this week when I knew how many old photos would pop up in my apps, the birthday that was impending on my calendar, the inevitable creep of grief that could start to weigh on my heart as today neared. 

I didn't schedule a day off work or shop ahead for a memento. I didn't bake a cake or plan a special dinner to make at home. 

My wall calendar was marked, "Griffin '9'," with nothing but a little blue star as an accent. 

It could be a day, just like any other. And it isn't. 

There are constants here. We talk about memories in this home. We look at those photos when they pop up and sometimes search for them when we recall something specific in an odd moment. We touch the feelings, even the soft and soppy, somber and sad.

There are plenty of memories though that I think I could hide, should I choose to. 

I know there are ways to go blank and numb, both through technology and in my own heart.  Those tough memories and touchy photos could find their way to the locked folder, or darker yet, the deleted files that the trash permanently burns 30 days later. The albums on the shelves collect dust already and without much effort could be relegated to the abyss of a storage bin or worse. 

Without the colorful pictures to flip through, who would ever choose to revisit those moments when we were not our best selves? Would they not just fade from the vivid to quiet and muted, grayer tones, and begin to fuzz and fray on the edge of our minds? And who would mind losing just one memory here or there, if it meant never feeling the solid drop of emotion when the rotation of that date came up? 

The reality of that option is too intense for me. If I silence the notification or pause the app, if I choose to hide the past because of pain, I lose more. There is an expansive background to see, hiding further behind the singular day, and the depth of characters I want to celebrate in the future are developing and learning from that hurt. 

Instead of hiding today, we leaned in a little, and looked back at some beautiful moments. We chose to send well wishes dressed up in color and light, and went out to a family dinner for flavor and sweet to savor the night and remember what and who, could have been. 

I revisited thoughts from Grief gone by: I eat raw cookie dough