In memorium

A few days ago, we attended the funeral of an old family friend. She had been ill for some time and in a great deal of pain, so release from this world was a blessing for her. Her and her husband had been friends of my parents; we had been to her home many times as young children. Some people are just special. These two were extra special. Though having no children of her own, she was a kindergarten teacher, and visits to her home were eagerly anticipated by myself and my three siblings.

As we all grew older, moved away from home, travelled and returned, we have all remained in touch with this wonderful couple. It is a sign of something tremendous when the friends of the parents become the friends of the children. I was so pleased to be able to introduce my husband and then my child to them both. Each time we visited, my memory flooded with scenes of happiness from my childhood...large glasses of lemonade (something we were rarely allowed to have at home); the hammock under the trees; totem tennis; the beautiful garden...I now relish these memories and am reminded that one's childhood is NEVER history. It stays with you forever. Some memories are indelible; they neither fade nor diminish. In fact, I think sometimes memories of childhood, whether happy or sad, can even become disproportionate...the happiness seems happier, the sadness, even sadder.

My childhood was not something that I look back on with great fondness. I had an authoritarian father and usually it was only when he was out of the house that a collective release from tension occurred. So the times we visited our old friends seem so vivid in their contrast to our sombre home life. There was something magical about those visits. We felt free to be kids, free to play, free to enjoy ourselves. For me, it all serves as a reminder, as if I needed one, that the earliest years of our life define and shape our view of ourselves, others and our place in the world. The words that are spoken to us, the feelings of our heart, our memories stay with us, reverbrating for all time. It makes me so determined to do my best by my little girl. To give her so much more of the happiness that for me and my siblings seemed all too fleeting.

So this post is written in memorium to a wonderful woman who, possibly unbeknowst to her, has helped to shape me as a mother. And I can't possibly thank her enough for that.