19 November 2013

Silent Remembrance

I watched this today on Janet Reid's facebook page. It is from a performance artist's retrospective at MoMA in 2010. It made me cry, tears welling almost instantaneously, staining my cheeks and spilling until my eyes were sore and my heart heavy.

Three minutes of a witnessed encounter affected me the whole day. There is so much contained in the silent conversation between the former lovers--shock, joy, pain, reconciliation--it made me weep for everyone missing from my life.

This Saturday, November 23, will mark the one year anniversary of my mother's death. There are reminders of her all through my house--clothes, pictures, notes written in her beautiful Palmer penmanship. The other day I had a remembrance of her sitting in her recliner, wearing a fuzzy sleepshirt. I could feel the fabric and the warmth of her body, and it was both comforting and deeply sad, because I know the day will come when I can't conjure the tactile sensation of her, the weight of her hands in mine, the sound of her voice.

When she visits in my dreams, there are no restrictions or limitations, and our meetings are joyous but silent, because she doesn't speak to me. Shortly after she died, I dreamed she came into the kitchen and sat down beside me. The Captain and his mother were there and they couldn't see her, but they knew I could. She was Early 40's Mom, no oxygen tubes or grey hair, and she was beautiful and happy. It was fantastic to see her, to touch her.

 A few months later, I dreamed we were riding Schwinn bikes around a beach town. I honestly don't remember ever seeing my mother on a bike, but it didn't matter. We had a great time silently pedaling, sun on our cheeks and wind in our hair.

Mom has visited One numerous times, and she spoke with Five when he was at his most anxious, telling him third grade was her toughest grade, too. I think she checks in on those who need her most, and I know our late night visits will become more sporadic as time passes, just as my father's did before her.

This is why the performance resonated so profoundly within me. I wondered, if given the opportunity to visit with someone you had loved deeply and not seen in many years but you could only face one another for three minutes of silence, would you do it?



  1. Definitely YES. *hugs* I have been missing my grandmother more lately than I did right after she died (2 1/2 years ago). No idea why. Nor do I know why she has never visited my dreams, even though we were as close as two people could be. But yes, I'm sure she's watching.

  2. This Post is so powerful I almost didn't comment. I would take three minutes with my Mom, even in silence. She hasn't visited me in a long while but I think and dream about her often.

  3. yes.
    Your mom was a very very special person and had a huge impact on my life. Thank you for sharing her with me.

  4. Yes. I'm tearing up thinking about having three minutes, even in silence, with my little brother.

    It's been a long time since any of my family has visited me in my dreams and I miss that. Luckily, I have very strong memories of them and can still see them in my mind's eye.

    Mom's birthday is today. Perhaps that's why I'm a bit weepy-feeling. I'm going to take good care of myself today and pay extra attention. I hope you do for yourself on the 23rd.

    Peace, love, and FGBVs!

  5. Yes. I am weepy thinking about it but I would take three minutes with my Pawpaw. He died six years ago and he visited me a few times while I was sick during pregnancy and once since then but I would just smile and nod and cry and hug him. What would I say that he doesn't know already?

  6. I love hearing about these visits. They make me smile through the tears.

    Love, love, and more love to you. Directly from me.

  7. Thank you, everyone, for your remembrances and kind thoughts. Today is the twenty-third, and in many ways just like any other day, because when someone dies I think you miss them every day. It's harder because Mom died the day after Thanksgiving, so each year there will be two days when we think of that sad day.

    But every day is not sad, and my regrets are few. To honor my mother, I try to make every day worthwhile. I try to love the people around me with all my heart and little judgment. And, as the years pass in my life, I think about how I might connect with the people I've lost touch with, people who mattered to me, because love and compassion are the most important things in life.

    Take care, all.


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