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Life Story Links: December 22, 2020
Last-minute reads while we await Santa's arrival: first-person tales to inspire & foment, diaries expected and not, plus some family history for good measure.
“Memoir begins not with event but with the intuition of meaning—with the mysterious fact that life can sometimes step free from the chaos and become story.”
—Sven Birkerts
A whimsical vintage Christmas card, created between 1950–1963, by Oscar Fabres, a Chilean illustrator who studied art in Paris and settled in New York in 1940, courtesy of the New-York Historical Society.
Accounting for Life
HONORING THE YEAR GONE BY
Austin–based video biographer Whitney Myers shares some thoughts on the sacred work of reflection including helpful pages you can print to guide you in New Year’s reflections and a bunch of fun conversation starters.
NOW IS THE TIME TO START (OR RESTART)
“About 10 years ago, I started adding a diary calendar feature to record at least one thing that happened every day—the profound and the mundane—so that I captured both the forest and the trees that make up the map of my life.” David G. Allan, who has kept a diary consistently since 1986, makes a compelling case for journaling about your life, now.
ACCIDENTAL DIARIES
A writer peruses his recent history through 14 years’ (and $12,017 worth) of Amazon purchases: “Looking through it all was unexpectedly cathartic; almost like a shorthand, accidental diary that I never got around to keeping.”
What’s Missing
AURAS OF POSSIBILITY
“Even as we regret who we haven’t become, we value who we are. We seem to find meaning in what’s never happened. Our self-portraits use a lot of negative space.” This exploration of our unlived lives—and what it’s like to explore them—is an intriguing and worthwhile read from Joshua Rothman.
THAT EMPTY FEELING
Last week I shared what I hope will amount to a dose of comfort for anyone grieving a loved one during this holiday season—a post that is all the more relevant as, right now, it seems as if we’re all grieving something.
First Person Tales
“SITTING ON MY MOTHER”
An encounter with his high school sweetheart (and her White Shoulders perfume) lead this writer on a path of rediscovery, reorientation, and re-disorientation that ends at his mother’s grave—and “an urge to reckon with the stories that make up [his] life.”
ARCHIVE OF AMERICAN VOICES
The latest season of the StoryCorps podcast explores how people deal with one of the only constants in life: that things change. Listen in to stories of how people cope while their lives are in flux, highlighting the lessons they’ve learned along the way. On the following episode, hear how Alice Mitchell and her younger brother Ibukun Owolabi found a way to move forward—from baby steps to teenagehood—after losing their mom:
CHILDHOOD MEMORIES
“According to my parents, the only real Santa was in Kirven’s Department Store. The other Santas around town, including the one at the new Kirven’s in Columbus Square, were ‘Santas helpers,’” Perry Hamilton, a personal historian in Laguna Hills, California, writes. Read about his childhood Santa realization here.
AN UNEXPECTED RESET
“I was tremblingly weak, and yet my COVID lifestyle was strangely enjoyable. My spirit floated somewhere above my suffering body, experiencing the days like shards of light piercing the dark.” Memoir coach Sarah White, a self-described “freelancer who rarely takes vacations,” on the surprising gifts of a relatively mild bout of COVID-19.
A Little Family History
HOLIDAY TRADITIONS OF YORE
After spending most of the last year writing about (and getting to better know!) her great-grandparents, Lisa O'Reilly wondered what Christmas traditions they brought with them when they came to America. Here the California–based personal historian dives into “Christmas Traditions from the Old Countries.”
HERITAGE DISCOVERY VIDEOS
The folks at RootsTech invite you to submit a personal video from 90 seconds to five minutes showcasing your heritage. Topics include food, culture, travel, and, as exemplified in the video below, traditions. They’re also seeking videos that highlight genealogy tips and tricks. Learn more here.
...and a Few More Links
New personal history business launches in the UK.
The Best of Brevity: Twenty Groundbreaking Years of Flash Nonfiction now available in paperback
One mom learns that “my props were my memorabilia and my kids were my memories.”
The joy of reliving her childhood bookshelf
On the occasion of the 25th anniversary of “This American Life,” Ira Glass, a pioneer of the genre of audio narrative journalism, picks a few of his favorite episodes.
Examining the archives of writer Julian Barnes
Short Takes
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.