The Most Beautiful Things by Debby Myers

 

If you’ve read my writing before, you know I don’t usually begin with something like this.

When I was a little girl of three, my baby brother was born. Daddy woke me and told me it was time for Mommy to go to the hospital and for me to go stay with Grandma Gigi. They had gone over the plan with me. When the time came, Gigi would wait with me, and we would make my favorite pancakes while we waited for the baby. My whole body filled with excitement. I put my coat over my pajamas and ran to the car. I’ve treasured that feeling, as it is my first real memory. It is often how we are feeling at a specific time that triggers our memories.

That memory came from a feeling of loss. I had just learned that a dear friend’s father passed unexpectedly from a massive heart attack. It was the same way my own father died 30 years ago. I began to think of him…and of Grandma Gigi…and of my brother…and of that first memory. Memories of these three parts of me are bittersweet now that they have all gone, but I won’t let them be forgotten.

For the last several months, most of us have spent a lot of time complaining,

blaming, and worrying about the problems this virus has caused. A lot of negativity seems to have taken over our TVs, radios, newspapers, social media, and conversations just when we are all being forced to stay home with not much to do except see and hear it all. I want to give you a look at how, during this time, I’ve done my best to stay positive.

With being quarantined, we’ve all felt fear, confusion, and a disconnect. I feel like we can take this time to share our memories and communicate with loved ones, whether it be by phone, text, video chat, or while wearing a mask in a positive
way. Being mandated to stay at home has had its perks that no one really talks about. Instead most seem to focus on being quarantined. Don’t get me wrong, there are many reasons we don’t like it. The way I’ve managed to get through it is through spending my time remembering.

When I begin to feel loneliness, it’s a feeling I fight off (and so do many others) almost daily. I’ve coaxed myself to remember good memories of friends and times we spent together. So many are with childhood friends. I made my first real friend at birth, growing up together, staying close for 57 years now. Other memories with work friends or theater friends. This gives me a feeling of joy. I’m being forced to be alone, but even before the pandemic there were many times I chose to be.
Knowing I have friends who would come in an instant if I asked keeps that feeling of loneliness at bay and brings me that joy feeling instead. 

One night during the quarantine, I had all five of my grandchildren spend the night here. No matter what the risk of a virus, they were the humans I refused to give up. Being with them brings feelings of deja vu, unconditional love, and amazement. When I get those feelings, I try to share memories with them that I hope one day they will all remember…well not Joelle since she’s only two.

I told them that night about how I walked to and from school 12 blocks every day, no matter what the weather (no exaggeration). As a kid, I was decked out in
clothes for all seasons – sunglasses and a floppy hat for summer; a windbreaker jacket and sock hat for fall; boots, mittens, scarf, snow pants and a hooded heavy coat for winter; and a rain coat, umbrella, and galoshes for spring. Two of the kids
smiled and secretly rolled their eyes, two of them were attentive and giggled…and Joelle, well, like I said, she’s only two.

I’ve already told them about both of my grandmas and grandpas, even the ones they had never met. I’ve shared memories of being in the circus, different jobs I’ve had, and about their own parents when they were their age. These topics keep them intrigued, asking questions, and giggling…and giggling. I have pictures of family all around my house and I feel pride when I show them and share memories of when they were taken.

Probably more important, I’ve talked with my older grandchildren about hard lessons I’ve learned – the time I tried to walk across the top of my swing set when I was nine, the time I got caught shoplifting when I was 15, the time I hit the overhang of a hotel with a U-Haul truck when I was 22, the time I bungee jumped when I was 30 – just to name a few. I’ve touched on serious topics too – religion, education, safety, dating, and about my disease, in language they could understand.

The next time they are here, I plan to share more. I hope they will remember Nana, and one day they will tell my stories to their own children after I’m gone. When I have the feeling of being needed, I make some of my best new memories.

If we end up being quarantined again, take the time to stop trying to complete your second “to do” list and find a comfortable place to sit down or lie down. Let your memories take over. You may cry and laugh, but it will make you feel and
remember life at a different time.

Being quarantined will be a story to tell for the rest of our lives. For our children and grandchildren, we can’t let this be a bad memory they carry with them and leave them with feelings of hate. Let’s all try to keep those feelings of love that pull on our heartstrings when we hear stories of doctors and nurses saving lives, neighbors helping neighbors, and peaceful protests for unity. Remember those good feelings so you can trigger those good memories.