Technology Saves the Day
Family, Life, Momsie April 16th, 2007It’s been three and a half years since my mom died. And while it does get easier, the very reasons why it is easier make it so much worse. I don’t think about her every second like I used to. But I’ve forgotten what she smelled like. I’ve forgotten exactly how we fit together when I’d cuddle in her arms. Her voice has faded.
I’ve been going through some issues lately (as Aelyn and Xuan know; please don’t mention it in the comments) that I know she went through. It just prooves the point. On Saturday I was shelving books that arrived on shipment at work and one (an inspirational gift book for mothers) titled “Why Daughters Need Mothers” or something of the like really hit home. I read the back. It said that no matter what, daughters needed their moms and that moms weren’t replaceable. It was supposed to be an uplifting thought for mothers. It mentioned getting married and the first baby… She’ll never be here for that. And now, when I don’t know what to do on other issues (and know that she would have answers since it happened to her too), I don’t have her. But I need her. And it hurts.
Everyone says that she’ll always be here in my thoughts and memories and that she’s watching over me. And I know its true and it helps… most of the time. But not when I need her to physically be here.
I have a cassette tape of me and her that she made when I was three. It was basic conversation. Where are we going tonight? What are you doing Sunday? Just a mother’s effort to capture memories of her daughter at a certain age. But to me, rather, it is a memory of my mom. I way to remember her and her voice. And know how much she cared. I bought a tape player just so I could listen to it whenever I wanted. But tapes are easily broken.
So, the planner and paranoid person I am, I recorded it with the voice record function on my phone. A recording of a recording. And I connected my phone to my computer and transferred it. And opened it in Itunes. And have it on my Ipod.
She hated having her picture taken. I have only about 5 good pictures of her. I have one home video, from when I was born. And I have this recording. Two minutes and fourty-five seconds that mean so much to me. Easily accessible and protected by technology.
April 16th, 2007 at 8:06 pm
=[ *hug* I like how this is a bittersweet entry, of sorts - sometimes recordings (of recordings, if one so wishes) can preserve the memories that keep the spirit of our loved ones close to us, and reaffirm the fact that their embrace never truly left. As a friend of mine says - memories can never die; rather, they can only fade with time.
I can empathise; sometimes that feeling just overwhelms you - that the heart aches for a lost loved one we cherish so much, whose experiences, whose secrets, and whose influence in our lives were things we had once grown so accustomed to. But, as I see it, perhaps it was her destiny to raise you, and then to move on, to watch you blossom in life.
It’s good to hear that such a medium of preservation is, itself, preserved to keep your mindset secure. =] *hug* Things’ll look up, most certainly. =) Makes me wish I had a recording of my mother to remember her by. I think I might take a look at those old photo albums … and write …
April 16th, 2007 at 9:39 pm
Xuan couldn’t have said it better. Even though the memories start to fade, preserving them would be the next best thing. Putting them in writing helps too, anything to make it last longer, to let it stay.
Feel better soon. *hugs*
April 17th, 2007 at 8:46 am
Having never suffered that kind of loss, I don’t know how well I can possibly empathize. I can say what the society says, that she’ll always be there…somewhere…but I’ve always doubted the validity of that statement myself. But perhaps keeping a recording and pictures of her will help. One instance in which technology actually does us good.
@Xuan: Is that my quote? I’m flattered…
April 17th, 2007 at 5:16 pm
@Stephanie: Indeed, it is. =) It rings quite true.