She ambles around the dining table and wants to set an extra plate at the dinner table. The dish clanks against the wood as the emptiness reverberates in the air. She’s made all of his favorites: Indian dal, potato curry, and rice pudding. The strong smell of curry sweep the room and her hand dances as she stirs the various textures in her favorite cooking pot. She clings to the past, but it offers her comfort. There is no denying it. She misses him. Everyday. And no one will ever take his place.
This is the voice of a widow. It is also the voice of my mother.
In the middle of making dinner, she makes a grand announcement, “I miss him everyday. I miss him so much.” I am paralyzed. I don’t know what to say. I ignore her words and try to distract her. My actions probably ring of callousness, but sometimes your words aren’t prepared to offer a balm to this kind of loneliness. How do I comfort my mother? I do nothing, but turn the conversation into some irrelevant comment about nothing in particular. “You should really try this new peppermint bark, Mom.” My hopelessness punctuates each word.
This loneliness is hard. Real hard. Everyday my mom talks about some remember when.
“Remember that Dad loved pears.”
“Really he loved pears? I didn’t know that.”
“Ya, he really liked red pears. He said they were the most delicious.”
Everyday there is a new “remember when” that echoes deep. The “remember when’s” center on my Dad’s favorite likes and dislikes and where they would go and what they would do. And sometimes the tint of the memory is happy, other times angry, and in-between all of these recollections, there is always a huge slice of sadness.
It gives me a chance to prepare myself, when I hear those two words, “remember when.” Aren’t we all one day, going to say, “remember when?” about someone we love and lose? And why do we not take these “remember when’s” more seriously? Why do we take for granted what beauty we experience with those we love the most?
It is easy to lose sight of what is. Because we are constantly looking for the details of a life that we think we want. The real lessons are to treat all those moments that can be potentially “remember when’s” as the most precious gift.
Now, when I am in the middle of a red pear moment, I pay attention.
It’s too risky to remember when. Because I hear this voice. Too loud. Too much. And it pains me because it is the voice of my mother.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Missing someone like that is most painful kind of hurt as it aches to the soul. It’s the kind of pain others can’t relieve. All one can do is listen and offer a shoulder and prayer. Hugs to you, Rudri,
Thanks for the reminder to pay attention to the “remember whens” today.
Oh, Rudri, how can anyone get over the pain of losing someone like that? This fills me with so much sadness for your mom, and also a reminder to appreciate what I have right here, right now.
Hi Rudri,
Your post spoke to an unspoken sadness that I have been feeling for a while. I had to get up an walk away in the middle of the post because I had tears running down my cheeks and I had that silent “sob” that you get because you don’t want to scream. You see, I lost my mom 6 years ago this month and I lost my dad last year. And at odd times the lonliness gets so thick you almost cannot wade through it. It keeps you stuck in a place in life where you are surrounded by unhappiness, dissatisfaction and a general blah where your days are colored gray even though the sun is shining.
“Remember When” are two of the most inconsequential words yet the bring back the most beautiful or funniest memories of those we have lost.
My biggest “Remember When” is my memory of my morning phone call with my mom. I had them every morning after my son got on the school bus… until my mom died when my son was a senior in high school. I miss those phone calls… and it seems like my day just does not start well.
You are right. We should CHERISH every moment as if it were a “Remember When” moment.
Thank you for this… I really needed the cry this morning.
Thank you Rudri for sharing such a private, poignant moment with your mother. It’s suchan important and wise reminder. Remember when. The longer we are fortunate to live on this earth the more remember when moments we carry in our hearts. A red pear moment – I’ll remember that. And I’ll be wishing your mother peace in her remembrance. I’m sure it is something one never gets over but learns to find joy in the memory and time they had together.
I teared up reading this. The way you describe her loneliness makes it palpable. I don’t look forward to it, this missing.
Oh, my eyes literally welled up with tears when I read this earlier. I’m so sorry for your mother, and you wrote this so beautifully that I feel as though I could feel her pain.
I think about this all the time, these forbidden thoughts that I can’t help having and then I worry about jinxing things by having them. My husband and I are so close. Because we work together as well we have literally been at each other’s sides 24/7 for 11 of our past 12 years together. Though like all marriages we have had our ups and downs, I can’t imagine the day that he won’t be at my side (that is, assuming I will be the last to go).
I don’t know if you have read or if your mother has read Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking, which recounts her husband’s death and her first year of widowhood. I started it but couldn’t bring myself to finish it.
I know your mother will continue to miss your father every day. It says so much about what he meant, and means, to her.
My heart feels sadness for both of you, your loss so great. Hugs to both of you. Xo
Hi, I just read your post and discovered you from SITS Girls. Talk about serendipity! I was sitting here, literally just moments before, thinking it would be cool to write a post about the little things in life. Then I read this:-) Thanks so much for sharing!
http://www.popsparkleandshineclub.com
This was so beautiful. We should do the remember when moments before someone dies, don’t you think?