The frightful power of memories

by Dave Williams
November 12, 2022

Today would have been my mother’s 91st birthday. She died three years ago. I wish I could talk with her today because I have an epiphany to share:

Nostalgia is sweet but stifling. It clutches, refusing to let you go.

She would have been happy for me because the idea makes me happy, but I doubt she would have agreed.

Mom and all her kids

My mother was the dearest, kindest, most giving person I’ve ever known. She was also very smart. She lit every room she entered in a sweet way, laughing and gracious, never commanding. I loved her for all of that.

Mom taught me many important lessons but the one I always remember best is something she told me when I was a very young child:

“This can be a good day or a bad day. It’s up to you.”

She wouldn’t remember that but I think of those words nearly every single morning. They empowered me to be happy. Sadly, it was advice she couldn’t always embrace for herself.

Mom had four children and she doted on us to the point of annoyance.

“All I want is to have all of my kids together with me again.”

That’s what she always said when I’d visit as an adult. As she grew older her sharp humor and wonderful outlook never faded, yet her nostalgic despair grew deeper. It was a deep sadness she masked with her dazzling smile and a small, pretty laugh.

“I just wish we were all still living in Loomis together Those were such wonderful times.”

As I remember it, we loved that home and each other but it was far from wonderful. My dad was overseas much of the time and when he was home he and Mom were both unhappy. They had argued a lot for years; Loomis was the beginning of the end of their marriage but Mom lovingly created and preserved her memories in a photo album of the heart, as we all do. She chose to hold onto the good and forget the bad, bless her. I learned that from her, as well, and I’m grateful for it. The problem was, she embellished her happy memories and lived in them.

Over the past few days, I’ve stumbled across some old family pictures that warm my heart but they also seem distant and foreign. I feel like I’m looking at an old home movie, snips of this and that mixed in a confusion of time. It all seems like several lifetimes ago. My emotions respond but my sense of reality can’t quite connect.

What I see in the past now is how far I’ve come, how much I’ve learned, and how more deeply I love the people and places of my life that made me who I am.

I hold onto the good times and feelings. They excite me about today and tomorrow.

Nostalgia is a nice place to visit but you can’t live there, you can only die there or keep it stashed in your heart and move on.

 

 

 

 

Every day is Mothers Day

Don & Nancy Williams on their wedding day, Aug. 6, 1950. I was born exactly one year later.

I’m the oldest of four kids born to my mom, Nancy Laura Webster Williams. She was still three months from her 20th birthday when I entered the world. Now, as we approach our 68th anniversary as mother and child I’m still trying to understand our indescribable bond.

Until this past year I could talk with my mother. We’d laugh and love with the sparkle in our eyes meant only for each other and with words that couldn’t begin to explain the depth of who we are together. But this past year she lost her words and laughter.

She lives but she barely knows my name and voice.

Mother’s love is peace. It need not be acquired, it need not be deserved. – Erich Fromm

I’m not sad. Her memories of us may be scrambled but she gave them to me for safe keeping.

I remember the songs she sang at home and the silly sense of humor she taught me. I remember her hugs and kisses and all the smart things she said; the pain and tears she shared and the sunshine of her smile that followed.

My mother loves me. She has checked every box in the official Maternal Love and Devotion handbook every single day of my existence. I’m in her heart if not quite secure in her mind.

We are the science of genetics combined with all the flowery words of poets.

Today can be a good day or a bad day. It’s up to you. – Mom

We are a mother and her son.

I will tell her again tomorrow that I love her. She might not hear me but she knows.