Even After I Have Forgotten

We do not remember days, we remember moments. Cesare Pavese

I have forgotten so much ..

  • the way your body slowly got heavier as you finished nursing and drifted off to sleep
  • the way you could sleep through anything as a baby .. noise, lights, voices ..
  • the way you entertained yourself for hours playing with your Sesame Street “guys” or your Thomas the Train Engine characters, lost in a world only you could see
  • the funny comments you used to make about what you’d seen or done or were pretending to know nothing about
  • the time you would spend lining up every ball you owned and then hitting them one by one with the plastic hockey stick into the net in the bonus room
  • the way you loved to tell Poppa about Pokemon or school or whatever else was on your mind
  • the way you’d snuggle into Nana’s side when she was reading a book to you
  • the cheerful way you’d head out to the playground at Parent-Toddler class with a “See ya, Mom!” while so many of your little buddies were sobbing and clinging to their mothers’ legs
  • how scared you were when you gave your first book report in Mrs. Carroll’s first grade class, speaking so softly that we couldn’t hear your voice on the tape she made for us, even when we turned the volume all the way up
  • the gracefulness with which you could catch a ball, swing a bat or shoot a basket
  • the ease with which you made friends before cancer and the perils of being different in high school made you self-conscious
  • how well you navigated your friendships, even at a young age, accepting differences, managing emotions, fighting fair, remaining loyal
  • how much you loved to learn … as long as it was a subject you cared about
  • the Snapple facts .. so many Snapple facts …

But some memories are mine forever. Even after I have forgotten the rest, I will remember ..

  • the feeling of your hand in mine
  • the weight of your body on my lap
  • the shape of your face
  • the softness of your hair
  • the light in your eyes
  • the sound of your laughter
  • the power of your hugs
  • the intensity of your love
  • the joy of being together

an image of Margo holding her son Jimmy on her lap when he was a small boy around 5 years old.

I will remember you.

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