MAY 15
This we owe our beloved dead, whether young or old: to
wipe from our memories all that was less than their best,
and to carry them in our hearts at their wisest, most compas-
sionate, most creative moments. Is that not what all of us
hope from those who survive us?
—ELIZABETH WATSONIn the end we owe them this—and probably give it
gladly—and hope for it for ourselves. But let’s not be too
quick to remake the image of the dead. We need to remem-
ber our loved ones in their totality, or we will end up with
shadow memories, endowed only with half light. Surely our
memories of our loved ones are wide enough to encompass
all of their natures, including the shortcomings and errors
which are the human lot. The foibles of our loved ones can
provide food for laughter, anger, tears—the stuff of family
bonding.
Then, as all these memories sift through the screens of
time and the basic love in which we hold one another, what
will stay in our minds will be the most endearing and wisest
qualities, with enough fragments of foible and shortcoming,
remembered in forgiveness and love, to make us human.
In the remembered image of a loved one there is room—and affec-
tion—for the person in his or her fullness.