Remember the Time

Corinne Bailey Rae released an album this year - her first since her successful debut in 2006 and since her husband suddenly passed away from an accidental overdose three years ago. In the first song, she says: "Are you here? 'Cause my heart recalls that it all seems the same, it all feels the same."

It is strange to me that though a person may be gone, we can so clearly remember things about them -- so much that it can seem for a moment they are still with us.  I'll never forget the sound of Midi's voice or her laugh, or Hideo's huge smile and his way of finishing sentences with "ya know'I mean?" 

As I am putting together a memory book of Hideo for his daughter, I am reminded of the many things about him that blessed other people. And I'm glad to remember, as much as it pains me to be reminded of his absence. I've felt a sense of urgency to remember and not forget -- to not lose the only things I have left of him: memories.

I love that in scripture, to remember is such a big deal to God. He remembers a prayer and answers it, or saves a loved one, or blesses a nation. He says over and again, "I will remember..." and calls us to remember what he's done as well. He knows that our memory is a powerful thing.  It can sometimes paralyze us in some traumatic experience, or it can give perspective to our present and give us the strength to keep going into our future.

In the meantime, it's hard not to think about where those loved ones are now. Are they in a state of sleep? Have they entered another realm? Are they able to interact with others who have passed on, or are they confronting only Jesus, face to face? Have Hideo and Midi met and bonded over their Japanese last names, then discovered they both grew up in Torrance and both knew me? Have they met Grandma, or Sam's sister, or Debbie's father, or 2Pac?

There is no answering of these questions until I get there myself. Perhaps someday we'll look back and remember this distant time here on earth -- the lessons learned, the things we had no idea about, the experiences of joy and heartbreak and grieving and longing. I think for some of those memories, I'll be okay to let go.