When Memories Hit

A cute little coffee cafe opened in my neighborhood today.  I love local coffee shops. I enjoy seeing the unique personalities the owner brings to each through the décor, the homemade or locally made pastries, and of course the coffee. I filmed live videos for a few years featuring local coffee shops while traveling in parts of the US and in Belize.

This new one near where I live is lovely from the first step through the picket fence gate, passing by lush plants and the blue painted bench by the steps to the entrance. Familiar things from years ago.  Gently cool air greeted me as I walked through the door, a refreshing change from the tropical heat outside. Muted earth tone walls, intimate wooden tables for 2 or 3, a cozy cushioned L-shaped bench with table, green plants, and soft lighting makes for a pleasant atmosphere, but quite different from before. When I walked to the counter to order a latte and a  banana muffin, they hit me. The memories. Tears welled up ready to burst into a dam down my cheeks. I turned and rushed out the door.

This had  been my husband’s art gallery. His biggest life-long dream come true beyond what he ever imagined. A little gallery on a pretty little tropical island in contrast to the magnificent Rocky Mountains where he lived as a child and where we lived together before we moved to the Caribbean. He was the first to occupy the new space. We both painted shelves in shades of blue to display prints throughout the room. His originals hung on the walls. Colorful cloth-covered tables held jewelry that I watched him make as we talked with one another and greeted customers. Mobiles of shells and other treasures he found on morning beach walks hung from the ceiling. Many paintings and carvings from local consigned artists filled the gallery with a myriad of creative talent.

People often commented on how lovely the gallery was and that it felt so peaceful. Michael’s face lit up with joy as he answered questions of how we came to live on the island and start his gallery. A year after opening as the gallery grew, Michael told me and others that he’d never felt healthier or happier.  And he looked it with the smile on his face and sparkle in his eyes. Several months later he was gone. Sudden weight loss and severe pain came on suddenly as the hidden enemy of pancreatic cancer took over his body. This Dream we’d only just started to live ended. There would be no more art created from his imagination or made by his hands. Soon the gallery was empty.

When I walked into the coffee shop that morning it all flashed into my mind. The art, the customers, the smiles, sharing our story, the joy, and Michael sitting at his studio table replaced now with the walk-up counter.  I held my hand to my face, turned, and rushed out the door. I walked out to the end of a dock and poured salty tears into the sea as I sobbed.  The memories hit hard.

After several minutes I rose above the grieving. I chose to view the memories as happy ones. I felt grateful that we took the risk to live our dream and that Michael got to see his little gallery hit #1 on TripAdvisor shortly before he could no longer keep it open. I returned to the coffee shop with a new perspective. I’m glad that a pleasant little business has opened in this space that makes people happy while enjoying conversations over coffee or fruity iced drinks, playing board games together, or a quick friendly greeting from the owner as they order a take-out. For me, I’ve found a quiet, lovely place to write at times. I can even “ see” Michael’s smile and his joyful energy around me.

It’s normal for unexpected memories to hit out of nowhere. Sometimes for no apparent reason. I call them tsunami waves. Grief that comes rushing at you, weighing you down, and unleashing a dam of sobbing or wails. They don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. Memories can be triggered by songs in a store, a favorite food at the grocers, a special item, a photo on social media, and any number of things.

How each of us who grieve handles these grief memories is personal and individual. It’s best not to deny them nor stifle them or try to push them down. They are normal. As Tom Zuba says, author of Permission to Mourn, it is another layer of grief peeling off. There most likely will be a life-time of them. Repressing the sorrow that arises when such memories or triggers occur only buries grief on top of grief and eventually can cause emotional, mental, or physical problems if not released.

Sometimes, I just let the tears flow when they hit even if I’m in a store or restaurant. People have always been kind and caring, and sometimes my vulnerability even opens them to share their own story. We help one another.  Other times I wait until I’m alone in my car or at home or out in nature. Releasing the sorrow when memories hit is healing. Tears are cleansing.

” Wounds are the places the light enters you,” Rumi. How have you handled various times when memories hit hard?

Photo Credits: Carmen Myrtis-Garcia.  Courtesy of Canopy Cafe, Caye Caulker, Belize.  Pickabay.