“What will we leave behind but words and laughter?”

I  think when people leave our lives we dont immediately recognize all the things we lose. We lose them physically, yes. We lose the touch and scent of them. Sometimes we lose the things that came with them like a laugh or a phone call or even just the pure feeling of knowing they are here.

Lately Ive been thinking about the things we lose that come quietly later and sometimes surprise us.

I used to get an email from Mom every night. It was a recap of her day, whether bad or good and usually a description of her dinner. Sometimes we would discuss books or TV or music but she loved to write so much more than she loved to talk so that was our connection. Before she got a computer, she wrote me letters, long ones- even though she lived near by. I saved them all. These are things I’ll never lose.

I was trying to remember who my second grade teacher was and why I liked her so much. Her last name started with a P I think and I am stressing trying to remember. I have a photograph of my mom coming to school with me then and a faint memory of her being a “class mother” for the day. Did she know I was so very proud of her? I thought to call her up and ask her about it when I realized this was a thing I lost.

I have a photograph of me, my Mom and sister camping when I was about 5. Mom was lying on a blanket reading a book and looked young and really happy. I want to know what the book was and why did she like it? Have I read it and would we have read it together had we the time?

I remember lying in Mom’s lap one night on a patio covered with trees, with my sister and Dad talking softly near by. My Mom stroked my hair and was quiet. We listened to the cicadas and I was so close I could hear her heart beat. Where did we live then? How old was I? Was she as happy then as I was?

There is a photograph of her and her brothers and sisters which would have been in the 50s. She wore a beautiful dress and a hat. Its a face of hers I dont know and never will. She was young and beautiful and I want to know what she was thinking as she smiled to that camera. Did she buy the hat or was it a gift? Did she know how elegant she looked?

Here is an old photo of her when she was a teen. Its a bit wrinkled but I come back to look at it again and again. Who were her friends and what were their names? Where are they now and do they remember her? Did they share secrets? They were laughing and I wanted to ask her why. Who were the people loading the car in the back? Had she kissed a boy yet or fallen in love? I always meant to ask her.

We keep lots of things when people go. I hung on to all her cookbooks. I have a big box of photos and letters. For the longest time, I kept the sound her voice on her answering machine in my head but that has since faded. She left us with so many wonderful things but I wonder tonight, if she knows the things we lost.

There are still stories she didnt have time to tell me. There are books she read and people she loved and things she saw. We ran out of time and I wonder would we have rushed to share more, had we known? Would we have talked and laughed more even about seemingly meaningless things? Would she have typed faster or written me more letters?
Would I have called her with a list of things she couldnt leave without telling me first?

Maybe, just maybe- I wasnt meant to know everything. Maybe some of these photographs were left behind so I could imagine what I wanted or needed from them. Maybe her smile in one of those photos was because she knew Id come back to it one day, needing more from her. Maybe she knew Id get old, but she wouldnt and so she only shared the important things.

Sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes we think we know but we really dont.

Its only later, when things are finally quiet within ourselves that we fully understand the things we lost.