Memories are a mixed bag emotionally. Often memories are enjoyable – a walk through a time passed.  Sometimes bittersweet, as I am finding as I navigate loss in my life. Sometimes outright painful and jarring.

My Dad is still alive but his memory is gone. He has no idea who I am.  We live 1000+ miles apart and haven’t seen each other in person for about 20 years (super long story).  We were never very close (he left my Mom shortly after they started the process of adopting me… again, long story) and I’d go visit him in the summer. Inevitably, what was supposed to be a week or 2 visit with him typically ended in 3-4 days when he’d drive me to my grandparent’s house (his parents) and drop me off. (I was always scheduled to visit the grandparents on those visits, I was just always supposed to spend time with my Dad first).  So, I’ve always sortve felt that I was nothing but an inconvenience to my Dad.  There are a few nice memories, but honestly, most memories I have of my Dad aren’t that great.

I try not to dwell on the less-than-stellar memories. I’ve forgotten (mostly on purpose) big chunks of my childhood. I’m pretty sure I spent a lot of my teen years dissociating and frankly things were awful enough that I don’t WANT to remember most of my teen years.  I was not a popular kid. High School was pretty much a nightmare. I was hardcore bullied for most of it. My Mom used to accuse me of being “weird on purpose”.  I wasn’t TRYING to be an outcast.  I had undiagnosed (at the time) Social Anxiety.  When, later in life, I got some of my mental health issues acknowledged, my teen years made a LOT more sense to me.

And there are some people that I just want to remember the best bits about. I want to remember the times that I felt loved and cared about.  I look at the bits and pieces of things I saved to remind me of those times and find myself hoping that, at the time those things were said that they were true – even if, after the fact, I’ve found that the other person never really cared the way I had thought that they did. (I apparently have no ability to discern whether someone is  a true friend. This has been proven time and time again).

I’ll end with a fond memory. I dated a guy when I was in High School who carved something for me. It took him HOURS. It was rough and imperfect, but the time and effort put into it made it one of the most precious gifts I have ever received.  I still have it.  I know that MOST people would have discarded it after the breakup. I know that MOST people certainly would have gotten rid of it at some point as the years wore on.  But it is one of my most prized possessions. It reminds me that at least once in my life, someone cared enough to spend hours of their life creating something for me. It sparks good memories and for that, I am grateful.