Early last week, I began a blog draft about my earliest childhood memories. For some reason feeling the need to journal them. I can't say why I suddenly felt the need. It has been a great while since I revisited the past in any depth. During the attempt, I did realize something though. There is one year of my life filled with memories. More memories for that one single year, than the next 10 years all together. Even with the realization that the years after I reached the age of 5 are the most painful to recall, it still surprised me.
Fast forward to yesterday, again memories assailed me. I was driving home after running some errands, and I plugged in a CD. One I had burned myself a while back. The first few songs were toe-tapping, hand clapping, sing along, dance in my seat songs. I was enjoying my drive home, even in the heavy Saturday evening traffic. Then as I was getting closer to home, two songs played back to back, why I had them on this particular CD I couldn't fathom, it had been one that was meant to conjure up feelings of joy, not sadness. The End of an Innocence came up, then Forgiveness. I was filled with a sudden feeling of sadness. Thinking about the lives I have changed because of a life I could no longer live.
I had thought I had let most of the feeling of self-fault go. I had thought I was over the part in which I blamed only myself for the end of my marriage. I thought I was reaching the point, in which no matter how difficult it was to bring myself to leave, how difficult it is, and how difficult it will be, I had accepted it, accepted that things are as they should be...for now. A part of me has. But The End of Innocence, really hit me hard. Even though my children are young adults, even though they have been fully supportive of this decision I have made, I also know there are times when they wish everything were as it used to be. Funny...after reading what I just wrote...there has been no time when I have wished for it to be "as it used to be". But, I know my children have felt it, and from time to time, will feel it again. I wondered then, will my Soon-to-be-ex and I ever reach a point in time when we will be able to discuss all of these emotions, his, mine, our children's, peaceably? I hope so. I wish it so.
The early days of my marriage flickered and flashed in a slow slide show through my memory. Those times when we relied on each other. Those times in my life when I needed his emotional support, and he gave it to me. The days my children were born, and how very loving and supportive he was. Those few days after each birth, when he was there, strongly, supportively there. Unfortunately it did not last, but he was there when my need was most great. His emotional support, his love, was strongly needed, and he supplied it. I will forever be grateful to him for that.
Many other times swept across my memory's viewfinder, each memory slice was of our early years, memories in which I was in need, and he filled those needs. Memories of when he was in need, and I was able to fulfill his needs. Once we were good to each other, and even at times, maybe, we were good for each other. Maybe.
Sadly, there came to be too many times when we were no longer able to fulfill the needs of the other, and that signaled the end of what was, and the beginning of what would never be.
It's funny, I have never been one who remembers lyrics, or artists, but those two songs and several I heard tonight while driving to a family celebration, brought home to me how important music is in our lives. Again tonight I was assailed by memories. The songs Miss Daughter and I listened to, and loudly, joyously belted out the lyrics to, were songs from my youth and early teen years, the overwhelming emotion was pure joy. They brought back memories of time I spent with friends. Particular days, or nights, were brought to the forefront of my mind. It was a heady feeling, an enjoyable feeling.
I have stated here before how I have always held the fear of losing memories, but I learned an important lesson these past few days. The memories are there when I am ready for them. Some are good, some are great, some are...not so great...some are awful...but they are there to be cued up when the time is right.
Many memories are so deeply embedded within my psyche that it may take a particular angle of the sun shining on the leaf of a tree, a scent, a song lyric, a poem, a story, a photograph, or a combination of all, or some of those things to bring the memories forward, but they do come.
For some reason this knowledge pleases me.