Memories Matter
Featured blog Posts
READ THE LATEST POSTS
Wish you were here, Mom
When Mother’s Day is hard due to feelings of loss, allowing ourselves to linger in our memories may help (and, yes, hurt). A tribute made in grief, and love.
When Mother’s Day approaches on the calendar, I get a little anxious. No, I’m not worried my husband and son will attempt to make me breakfast in bed (though I wouldn’t complain if they did); rather, I worry how I will balance the grief that simmers just under the surface at all times at having lost my own mother with the unadulterated joy and pride I feel in being a mother myself.
I know I am not alone in feeling my grief bubble to the surface on days such as this. At an event a couple of years ago I heard Henry Louis Gates, Jr., describe his grief at losing his mother as “still as raw and as fresh, almost, as it was when it happened”—in 1987. “If I let myself go there,” he said, “I can start crying in about two seconds. It’s like a stream flowing under this carpet—it’s right there, and I can tap into that grief at any moment.”
Ah, yes. Me, too.
When remembering lost loved ones hurts
I used to love browsing the Mother’s Day cards in the drug store, finding one (or two or three) that captured my heart for my mom—now, however, that aisle is a trigger for a feeling of aloneness. That hollow sense that descended upon me immediately after my mother died returns, and I momentarily feel like my skin is made of eggshell.
I don’t allow myself to linger in those moments (self protection, no doubt), but I have learned that if I allow them to prompt me to visit with my memories for a while, I am the better for it.
When friends or family lose someone they love, I always urge them, at some point, to let their memories provide comfort. To relish the stories they hear from others who knew their loved one. To keep their loved one’s spirit alive. On occasions such as Mother’s Day, I must remind myself anew of this advice.
A few years ago, on what would have been my mother’s 70th birthday, I shared an unusually long update on Facebook about what I was feeling. The responses both public and private from my circle of friends were overwhelmingly supportive, as close to a warm hug as I could get from social media.
Because a number of people expressed gratitude for my words that day—for recognizing my prolonged grief as their own, for glimpsing something universal in my very individual experience—I decided to share the post in this broader setting.
For all of us who have a conflicted relationship with Mother’s Day, know this:
Our mothers live on in our memories, as joyful and as painful as that may be.
Facebook reflections
From my March 16, 2017, Facebook post:
Today my mom would have been 70. It’s hard for me to fathom. And yet how easy it would be to let myself go there—to imagine that she’s been with us these past eight years, grandmother-ing [my son], supporting and guiding and loving me on weekend overnights and hours-long phone calls, making [my husband] chocolate cream pie.
I don’t let my mind go there, ever. I don’t usually imagine her in my kitchen browning oxtails for barley soup. Or sitting on the floor near our fireplace Christmas morning, relishing in her grandson’s joy over opening his piles of presents. I never think of her sipping tea in her bathrobe at my kitchen table, in my home she never ultimately saw. I especially never allow myself to feel her arms tightening around me in a meaningful hug.
My mind never goes there because my heart couldn’t take it. It would be overbearing, distracting.
There are moments that come unbidden, though, thoughts that my mind could not squash because they are made exclusively of feelings, that simply hollow me out some days: When instincts alone move my hand to hover over the phone to connect with her. When I realize anew she is gone (I had not forgotten, exactly, just not remembered, right then, that the worst had happened).
I would have guessed eight years ago that those times would have come when something sad or even a tiny bit bad had happened—when I needed her. But I would have been wrong.
Every time I have been so in the moment that I have *not remembered* that she is gone—every time—has been when I wanted to share my joy with her.
Those who knew her will recognize that, while she was one of the most supportive, least judgmental, and most generous souls to have crossed their paths (oh, the stories I could tell!), she was also gracious and grateful beyond measure—and sharing joy with her always multiplied one’s own joy.
I lost my mom when my only son was just three months old, and it was an unexpected blow to bear. And yet it happened in the midst of the most substantial, indescribable joy I had ever experienced: motherhood. I have been blessed with many great things in the years since, and I am forever grateful (a lesson learned well from her). If only I could share those joys with her. If only I could express my love for her, impossibly amplified since becoming a mom myself. If only I could imagine her as my friend walking this earthly path with me, still.
I don’t let my mind go there, not most days. But today, on what would have been her 70th birthday, I will. I am going to imagine, for just today, what it would have been like. xoxo
And on Mother’s Day, if you, too, have lost your mom, may you join me in “going there”—ruminating on our moms’ lives and love, visiting with their memory and spirit…
Related Reading
Holiday Grief: We may yearn for a lost loved one even more during the holidays, but know that shared memories are a balm to the soul, and that grief is another form of love.
Allison Gilbert shares a multitude of specific ways to keep lost loved ones’ memories alive—to actively remember them—in her book, Passed and Present.
Notes from a Funeral: Reflections from a funeral on remembrance and grief: sharing memories about lost loved ones to heal—and why we don't honor our families through story sharing now.
See how the first legacy book I ever created honored my mother—and eventually inspired Modern Heirloom Books.
NOTE:
The introduction to this post has been updated for timeliness on May 12, 2023. (Original post from May 9, 2017, included details about workshops and talks that have since passed.)
3 Best holiday gift ideas that honor family memories
Give your loved ones a gift they will cherish for years to come—one that puts memories front and center. Here are 3 (doable!) ideas to inspire happy tears.
One-of-a-kind gifts that preserve memories are the best kind of holiday presents!
Are you tired of gifting things that no one in your family really needs? Having trouble finding meaningful ideas for holiday giving? Here are three amazing Christmas or Hanukkah gift ideas, including tips and resources for going the DIY route as well as ideas for getting a pro to handle it all, start to finish. Happy memory-making!
1 - Create a family recipe book.
Not just any recipe book, but one filled with the ingredients and how-tos for your favorite dishes AND the stories and memories associated with them.
Be sure to include:
the foods’ origins (Who made it first? Who might have changed it over the years? Does it derive from a specific region or culture?
notes about any special ingredients (and by this I mean how to source unusual spices, perhaps, but also when using a certain brand—like U-Bet syrup or Eagle condensed milk—is crucial to a dish’s success)
photos of handwritten recipe cards (those grease stains and crossed-out notations add incredible texture to your book!)
even simple foods if they hold special meaning to your family (Mom’s quick cinnamon toast, say, or Poppy’s three-ingredient holiday egg cream)
DIY family recipe book help
If you’re ready to dive in, these tips for getting the family involved in preserving your food heritage may help get you started.
And if you’re not quite ready but love the idea, these recipe cards have space for recording memories alongside your recipes, and they’re a great precursor to creating a family cookbook (they make a unique and thoughtful host gift, too). Use coupon code HOLIDAY2021 for 25% off at checkout, through the end of this year.
Consider a professionally created heirloom recipe book.
If you love the idea of honoring your family’s food heritage but don’t have the time or inclination to undertake such a project yourself, I’m here for you. Let’s set up a free call to discuss your project.
2 - Get those photos off your phone and into a book.
If your photos are sitting on your phone or computer, then you have a bunch of digital files, not a collection of memories. Get them in print for a gift guaranteed to make them (and you!) feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
The hardest part? Believe it or not, it’s not designing your book or finding a printer, it’s curating your photos. Huh? By curating I mean deciding which photos to put into your memory book and which to leave on the cutting-room floor.
Choose photos for your book that:
show you and your family members as you really are—don’t just choose well-lit posed shots and flattering selfies; rather, pick pictures that convey your personalities and exude real emotion
hold some special meaning, even if it’s elusive to outsiders
mark moments beyond the milestones—so, alongside those birthday and anniversary photos, include images from around the dinner table, or sitting under blankets for family movie nights (I guarantee these everyday scenes will grow exponentially in meaning over time!)
DIY photo book help
If you’re ready to get started, I challenge you to add some long captions describing your memories so your family photo book is wonderfully elevated to true memory-book.
Check this page out if you’d like some help with photo book themes.
Hand your photo book over to a pro
Need help with any part of this process? I can help you curate your photos, capture your memories, and design and print your photo book. Set up a consultation or consider buying a gift certificate for future services.
3 - Give them the gift of a generous listener (and time to share their stories!).
Asking someone to share their memories—and then giving them your undivided attention and heartfelt curiosity—is a gift we give not nearly enough. It’s why literally every single one of my personal history clients thanks me profusely for listening to them. For asking follow-up questions and never judging their experiences. For opening my heart and inviting their stories.
And you know what? This gift is free for you to give your loved ones. All it costs is time and a little bit of effort (I’ve even created a free gift certificate printable you can download and present to your loved one!)..
Fair warning: Your mom, granddad, or whomever you plan to bless with this gift, may very well have a look of confusion when they hear what you’re gifting them. Don’t let that deter you—instead, reiterate to them just how much you love them and value their stories, and how spending time together in such a way is as much a gift to you as it is to them. (It really is!!)
A few ideas for giving the gift of listening:
Be an active listener. Give your family member non-verbal cues as they are telling their stories—nod, show emotion on your face. These cues help them know, deep down, that they are being heard, and will urge them to keep sharing
Ask follow-up questions. Your curiosity is a wonderful driver of their stories. And by asking relevant, perceptive, timely questions, you will be helping them construct their story.
That said, be quiet sometimes. There are always times when silence—even an extended, potentially awkward silence—is called for. If you are truly listening and reading their cues, you may feel when this is the case: Do they have a faraway look in their eyes, like they are still inhabiting the world of their story? Give them a few beats to stay there. Have they dropped some profound or surprising insight on you? Just wait. Your patience is a gift, an opening for them to dig deeper and offer up even more out loud.
Don’t judge. Period. Approach this conversation with an open heart and an abundance of empathy.
DIY resources for interviewing your loved one
Will you be the one conducting the interview (or, if that sounds too “official,” leading the conversation)? This free printable guide has a great array of questions to help jog your loved one’s memory and get the stories flowing.
Will your child be asking the questions? This Kid Kit contains everything a child will need to spend quality story sharing time with their grandparents, from questions to historical tidbits to bonus family history activities.
Okay, the fundamental value in this activity is spending quality time together and learning more about your family elder—that’s really and truly it. However, don’t forget that it’s also a prime opportunity for recording their stories. So if you’d like to capture them for posterity (and I suggest you do!), check out this guide from the Smithsonian with specific tips on setting up a voice or video recorder and preserving your questions and answers.
Get some expert help to preserve their stories
Once you have had your story sharing session, you may want to consider having them professionally edited and designed into an heirloom memory book. If so, please reach out to see how I could help you bring your dream book to life.
More essential reads about Christmas memories:
Who (or what) are you missing this holiday season?
I hope you'll take comfort in these personal stories of vulnerability and loss during the holidays. (Sharing memories about loved ones is always a good thing.)
The 2020 Christmas and Hanukkah season will be anything but normal—but one constant is that stories are always welcome!
There’s nothing “usual” about these December holidays. This pandemic year has taken us all for an unexpected ride. And while funny memes and abundant comfort food may ease our path, they do little to truly soothe our souls.
I recently shared a post on social media: A 2020 gift list for grievers curated by Allison Gilbert, author of the wonderful book Passed and Present: Keeping Memories of Loved Ones Alive. One commenter noted how “everyone is grieving something this year.” Ah, yes, I thought—maybe that’s why the post resonated more deeply than usual with me.
And maybe that’s why I feel compelled to share a few resources for anyone who is, indeed, grieving during this season.
I am no stranger to holiday grief, having lost my mom unexpectedly just three days after Christmas in 2009, and two of the very personal posts below reveal my vulnerability at this time of year—as well as how story sharing about our deceased loved ones can be healing (dare I say, even joyful). I hope you can take a measure of comfort from my words.
The middle post offers up a list of memory-provoking questions designed to elicit holiday stories from a family member. While the original intent was to use them to guide a personal history interview with a loved one, again, this pandemic year may challenge that approach… So, if you are physically apart from your relatives, consider interviewing them from afar via Zoom (or a good old-fashioned phone call)—just remember to hit record on your smart phone or on a recorder to ensure you capture their memories for posterity! Another idea: Set aside some of your own time to write about your memories; these questions work just as well as writing prompts, after all.
Wherever you are, whomever you are missing, know that I am with you in spirit and wishing you peaceful and happy holidays!
Ghosts of Christmases past
While the Christmas season can be difficult for those of us missing a loved one, remembering them—out loud, with others who knew them—is a balm to the soul.
The December holiday season can be one filled with joy and youthful anticipation, but for many individuals who have lost loved ones close to them, it can be a month-long reminder of that loss.
As I have written about before, I lost my mom on December 28, 2009, when my son was just three months old. My Christmases—indeed, all of my days—since then have been shaded by her absence.
Of course I feel immense pride and happiness when I see my son sharing gifts with his family and talking with Santa. And I do enjoy my shopping excursions and home decorating, the general jolliness that pervades my community. But I feel a pit in my stomach when I look across the room to see his cousins cuddling with their grandparents, knowing my son doesn’t have any grandparents left. And I mourn the loss of the many, many laughs and moments of connection he would have shared with my mom.
I miss her for me. I miss her even more so for him.
There is no remedy for our grief. As has been reiterated to me through experiences over the years, my grief is evidence of the great love I shared with her.
While there is no remedy, though, there is a balm to the grieving soul, and that is story sharing.
“There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.”
—Henry Wordsworth
Speaking their names, honoring their lives
I recently listened to an episode of the Real Connections Podcast, where host Cami Moss spoke from her heart about having lost her dad when she was just nine years old. She shares how during the time period immediately following her father’s death, people generously shared their memories of him. Shortly after the funeral, though, that heartfelt conversation subsided (something I can relate to all too well).
She remembers vividly, and with overwhelming gratitude, the most beautiful gift of support she received during that time: “My mom’s best friend was such an angel in our lives, because she didn’t shy away at all from totally being there for us as kids.”
Most importantly? “She’d talk to us about him, and tell us about him,” Moss recalls. “She still does that. She’ll still talk to me about ‘Oh, your dad loved that,’ or “oh, I see that that trait is just like your dad.’ Or just letting me talk about him, or asking me about him. Even now, I love it.”
I had, and continue to have, the same experience. “When I feel like there are no words, those are the words I want to say,” Moss asserts—meaning: “Tell me about your dad. What was he like? What do you miss about him?” She wants to speak to those questions, to be set free to remember out loud, to delve into her memories and visit with her father in the present tense.
Like Moss, I yearn for an invitation to talk about my lost loved one. I yearn to know that another person valued my mom and cares that she is missing, and cares how I am doing without her.
Giving the gift of space—and questions
I was profoundly changed by my mom’s death. And I am ever more cognizant of just how valuable being there for someone who has suffered a major loss is. These are small things, but I go to services—wakes and funerals and shiva calls, celebrations of life and ten-year remembrances; and I share memories—small stories, big ones, in person, and in handwritten letters.
I purposefully ask friends how they are doing months and years after a loved one’s loss. I ask questions on holidays about what the departed would have loved (or hated) about the day, what they might have cooked or gifted or thought.
I do these things because they are the things that meant—and mean—the most to me, and because I have heard from others how valued they are.
I do these things because, through my work, I witness how profound sharing stories can be. How healing and cathartic. How unexpectedly lightening.
I do these things because I know in my heart that visiting with loved ones in our memories can be a joy-filled communion, even when tears of sadness are released.
I hope that you may do the same for someone in your life this holiday season. Ask them about a relative who has passed—then listen generously, and engage with their stories. Share a memory—or two or three—about someone you loved with another person in their life. Pick up the phone to share an unexpected story, or craft a thoughtful Facebook post with an old photo of a mutual loved one.
The most cherished gifts I have ever received are stories of my mom since she has passed. Cari Moss and I can’t be alone in this most simple of wishes, can we?
This post, originally published on December 9, 2019, was updated on December 1, 2022.
75 Questions to spark Christmas story sharing
Family history questions for Christmas: 75 open-ended, specific interview questions to elicit powerful memories & stories from the older generation.
Christmas and Hanukkah—or other holidays where extended family gathers in one place—is an optimal time to gather stories and memories via oral history interviews. There needn't be a lot of pressure: Simply turn on your smart phone’s voice recorder or set up a video camera on a tripod, then forget it’s there...and begin reminiscing.
The important thing is that you relax and let the stories flow. Don’t wait until next year or when everyone is available or any other “better time”—trust me when I say: Now is always the right time!
When family gathers at Christmas, use the opportunity to share stories and memories of days gone by—trust me, it’s as entertaining as it is valuable!
Personal history interview questions: Christmas edition
Use these questions merely as a guide or to give you ideas for questions of your own. The key to any good personal history interview is listening—so ask follow-up questions that genuinely interest you, and let the stories take their own paths...that is usually when the magic ensues!
FOOD
Is there a dish you always associate with Christmas Eve or Christmas day Do you know who has the recipe, and who originally cooked it for your family?
Did you or your family make cookies or other special desserts to share with neighbors during the holiday season? What about leaving food for Santa—and his reindeer?
Are there any foods, from the holiday season or year-round, that remind you of your heritage?
Did your parents make you eat anything you absolutely hated?
What food(s) do you associate with comfort? With the onset of winter?
Who made the cakes for birthdays in your home?
Do you recall any massive failures at cooking—a horrible dinner, burnt pie, missing ingredients?
Who taught you how to cook?
TRADITION
Did you hang Christmas stockings? By a fireplace, or somewhere else? Were they filled by Santa? Do you have any favorite memories of stocking stuffers?
Did anyone in your family or neighborhood dress up as Santa? Did you know it was them? Have you or anyone else in your family continued that tradition of playing Santa—and if so, how does it make you feel?
What traditions do you most fondly recall from your childhood?
Are there certain traditions that have persisted for generations in your family?
What traditions have you begun anew with your own nuclear family?
Is there a memorable gift you have given someone?
What is the best gift you have ever received?
ANTICIPATION
What time did you wake up on Christmas morning? Was it earlier than your parents? Did they make you wait before starting the festivities?
Do you recall the feeling of anticipation on Christmas Eve?
What other times in your life do you recall similar feelings of anticipation?
GIFTS
Did you (and your siblings/family members) want to rush through the gift giving? Was there a sense of order and gratitude opening gifts, or was it wrapping-paper mayhem?
Did you ever look for or find evidence of Santa?
Were there ever times when hardship made gift giving at the holidays challenging? How did that make you feel? Do you have a story from that time, or a lesson learned?
How were gifts wrapped?
Did you help pick out gifts for those you loved, or was it strictly a parent thing?
What types of gifts or cards can you recall having made by hand
as a child?
Do you remember how you felt when you discovered the truth about Santa? How old were you?
What is your most magical Christmas memory?
RELIGION
What religion, if any, is your family? Were you devout? Members of a congregation?
Was your church or temple community a central part of your life?
Did you go to church on Christmas morning? Midnight mass?
What memories of you have of those times?
Did/do you pray?
Are you spiritual? How does that manifest itself in your life?
HUGS
Was your family very affectionate? Describe how they showed love, or if you wished there was more physical affection.
Are you a hugger? How does it make you feel?
Who in your family gives/gave the best bear hugs? What is/was that person like?
Did you cuddle with your parents? Do you cuddle with your own children? Grandchildren? What does it mean to you?
Did you write letters to Santa? If so, where did you mail them? Did you ever hear back from the North Pole?
Do you recall getting Christmas cards during the holiday season?
Did your family draft a holiday letter (many people keep these as part of their family history archive—did you save any of them)?
SNOW
Where did you live when you were growing up? Did you generally have a white Christmas?
Do you remember the first time you saw snow?
What was your favorite snowtime activity—sledding (or did you have a toboggan?), making snow angels, snow balls fights? Or how about ice skating? Shoveling?
Do you recall snow days from school? Listening to the radio for announcements, or waiting for a parent to wake you up? How did you occupy yourself on snow days?
Did you build snowmen? What would you use for the nose and eyes?
HOME
What smells remind you of your childhood home?
What makes you feel most at home now, as an adult?
How do you describe home?
What was the address of your favorite home? Why was it your favorite?
Have you ever visited a home from long ago—how did it make you feel?
Did you move often while you were growing up? Did that affect your personality or self-esteem?
Free Christmas Questions Guide
Download all 75 questions in a handy printable booklet!
Give the most unique holiday gift!
Cherished memories last a lifetime—and beyond, if you preserve them.
Holiday grief: Find comfort & connection in memories
We may yearn for a lost loved one even more during the holidays, but know that shared memories are a balm to the soul, and that grief is another form of love.
There is no timetable for grief, and sometimes our journeys of missing a lost loved one will be lifelong. The intensity of the grief we feel, though, is often magnified around the holidays—that sense of yearning for someone, of remembering them in a most visceral manner (through the tastes of the holiday food, the smells of an evergreen tree, say, or the feel of the hugs and stockings and warmth of the fire)...
Even amidst the joy, we may still feel sadness—and that’s not only okay, it is normal.
Here, I wanted to share two simple ideas—principles that have helped me on my healing path, and ones that I do believe can have a worthwhile impact on others.
Shared memories are a gift.
“Nothing makes me happier than someone asking me about my dad and what he was like,” writes Jahanvi Sardana, who lost her father to brain cancer in early 2017.
My own mother died thirteen years ago this month (three days after Christmas, to be precise), and I still feel exactly as Sardana does: The best gift—for Christmas or at any time of year—is simply, definitively, a shared memory of my mother.
I cherish when people share specific memories: That time my mother made everyone in the car laugh so hard that they had to pull away from the McDonald’s drive-thru because no one could talk through their guffaws. The time my mother hugged a coworker when he was having a bad day. The time she made spinach quiche for the elderly couple she saw at chemo every week. Or how, after wearing one blue sock and one black sock to the office, she combated her color blindness by having a friend help her label her laundry by color.
These are not monumental memories. They are moments.
But in their specificity, my mother comes alive for me.
I, too, feel connected to the person sharing the memory—they knew my mother, they experienced her. As I have so few people with whom to reminisce, these moments of sharing are even more precious to me when they happen.
“Keep your loved ones alive in your conversations, your memories, the way you live because end of life in no way translates to end of relationship,” Sardana says.
Remember that your recollections are a balm to the soul. Don’t ever refrain from sharing, or thinking that your memories may prove too painful; on the contrary, I can almost guarantee that your stories—no matter how inconsequential they may seem—are welcome to someone who has experienced a loss, whether that loss occurred yesterday or a decade ago.
Grief is another form of love.
At the memorial service for my grandmother, there were lots of sympathetic hugs. I remember those and the many words of support vaguely, through the fog of loss that shrouded me on that day.
One memory, though, is vivid: My friend Marc told me, “Your sadness is big because your love was big.” Those weren’t his exact words, but they capture his meaning, an idea that seemed new and comforting and obvious all at the same time. In his Marc way, he told me how lucky I was to have experienced such a loving relationship with my grandmother, and how my grief was proof of that love. What a revelation.
It was also evocative of my mother’s enduring philosophy, that we should be ever grateful. In that moment of loss, thanks to a friend’s words, I felt connected to my mom, and blessed to have had my grandmother in my life.
“The greater the love the greater the grief,” wrote C.S. Lewis, echoing my friend’s wisdom.
Jahanvi Sardana, who wrote about her father’s recent death, would agree, it seems: “Grief numbs your body, breaks your heart, and drains your veins, but grief also is just another form of love.”
Be patient with yourself, and gentle in your grief.
“Grief is tremendous, but love is bigger,” Cheryl Strayed says. “You are grieving because you loved truly. The beauty in that is greater than the bitterness of death. Allowing this into your consciousness will not keep you from suffering, but it will help you survive the next day.”
Yes. Yes.
Resources & more for those who are grieving
When I first wrote this article in 2017, Sheryl Sandberg’s book Option B—which she wrote in the wake of her husband’s death, when she feared she would never feel true joy again—was a bestseller, and I noted with gratitude that she had created a community around the idea of resilience in the face of adversity. The Option B website continues to offer ways to
connect with people who understand
immerse oneself in inspiring stories—or share your own
get practical advice for talking about loss and other challenges.
More recently, I have been listening to Anderson Cooper’s thoughtful, inspiring podcast called “All There Is” in which he vulnerably explores grief as he goes through his mother’s things after her death. I highly recommend listening, whether your loss is fresh or years behind you. I related to so very much he and his guests had to say; I think you will, too.
Related Reading:
The Healing Power of Remembrance: “The prescription for joy and healing after loss is to remember.”
Mommy & Me: How a struggle to tell my mother’s whole story turned into a more intimate portrait of love.
Notes from a Funeral: Sharing memories about lost loved ones to heal—and why we don't honor our families through story sharing now.
Keeping memories alive: How tribute books can create a lasting legacy of your deceased family member
This post, originally published on December 19, 2017, has been updated on November 30, 2022.