It is holy to remember

I still remember the people who showed up. They showed up at the hospital, they showed up at my home. They showed up at the memorial service they showed up in the days, the weeks and the months after my first husband died. Many of them are still showing up now, many years later.

I remember when I couldn't seem to tell up from down or  in from out, the disorientation of grief was overwhelming. And others helped me navigate the long journey of grief and heartbreak. Now this kind of remembering may not, at first, seem to be holy. 

And now here I am almost 21 years later and as I remember what it was like I can observe how I I have a new orientation, a re-orientation. I am so grateful for those who have helped me remember that even in the excruciating grief I never,  ever needed to be alone. It is holy to remember. 

It is especially helpful to remember together. To share both the stories of joy and the stories of deep sorrow and heartbreak.  It was perhaps a year or maybe  two after my husband died that I'd get afraid that no one would be my co-remember . That the things that had happened would be forgotten. It wasn't long after putting words to that fear that someone shared that they would help me remember that I could tell them the story and they would remember with me.

It is holy to remember together. I appreciate the liturgical tradition of All Saints Day  as a day in which we can remember together. It was a long time ago now that I had the acute awareness that part of resurrection living was to remember together. That we are invited to live out what we profess in the creed that we believe in the resurrection of the living and the dead. Those who remembered with me brought me back to life. They were love come to life in the ways that they showed up. 

I still remember how important it was that people showed up. Many people who showed up brought a card or a casserole or a small gift for one of my children.  The greatest gift that I was given was that they showed up. They remembered that grief lasts way beyond the memorial service or the first year or first few years. In the days and weeks  and months and now it is years after that deathI am fortunate to have many who continue to remember with me. 

That's how I want to show up in this life. I want to remember with others. I want to remember with others that love is greater than fear, that death does not have the last word, that there is no possible way to die alone because the breath of life is the breath of God, which is the presence of God within each one of us. 

It is holy to remember and to be reminded that it is Love that reunites us with those who have died and gone before us and one day we will be reunited in a way we likely could never fully imagine. It is holy to remember and to be reminded that death never, ever, ever has the last word.