The Memory Bank

I decided a long time ago that your brain is like a bank. You deposit memories, to relive later. It’s also like a photo album, because, if you close your eyes, you can SEE that photograph that was never taken.

I’ve been doing that a lot this week. I remember seeing Jason for the first time. We were having problems with the anesthesia, and they wanted to knock me out. I refused until both of my sons were here. Rick was crying the first time I saw him. Jason looked me right in the eyes. No tears. Yes, I know newborn babies can’t really “see”, but he stole my soul in that instance. I wanted to touch him, but there were too many tubes and “stuff” attached to me. I can close my eyes and see it today.

Then there is the actual photograph that I don’t have. I’d taken them to one of those 8×10 for $1.00 things, where they try to get you to buy more pictures. Only, I couldn’t afford to buy more pictures. But I can still see it. Jason, sitting straight up, arm around his brother. Rick, leaning over forward with his shoe in his mouth. They were dressed in white, and their red curls were to their shoulders. I’ll never forget it.

I remember when he was three. Red curls bouncing everywhere. Tears streaming from those beautiful blue eyes. “Don’t make us go, Mommy. Please don’t make us go. We hate it there. Please, Mommy, please.” They had to go to their “father” ‘s. I’ll never forget that face, or the feeling that accompanied being forced to make them go.

The adorable red head in the wheel chair at “Dinny Word”. The look on his face when Cinderella blew him a kiss and waved to him. It was love at first sight. He talked about it for days.

The eight year old, going shopping with Granny. I desperately needed a nap, so my Mother took them shopping. We were in Melbourne, visiting Rocket Scientist Number One. Mom gave them money to buy whatever they wanted to. The look of total glee on both of their faces when they returned. Hands behind his back, Jason asking what I thought they’d bought. They had taken the money Granny gave them and bought a dragon (I collect dragons) for me. Even at eight, Jason was much more likely to give than to take.

The ten year old, running for the State Youth Championship in Alabama. He was the youngest there… his age group was 10 -14, but he was the only 10 year old to qualify. The disappointment when he came in second—to a fourteen year old. I remember that face so clearly.

The Christmas party. He was 15 or so. There had to have been 100 people in and out. Somehow Crown Royal became involved. I’m not allowed to drink Crown Royal. Just not a good idea. Jason’s laughing face putting me to bed. When I got up the next morning, the house was spotless. He’d cleaned it.

His first high school hurdle race. He came in second, to Alvin. Alvin was preening and strutting. Jason chased him down to congratulate him. For four years they were rivals and friends. Sometimes J won. Sometimes Alvin won. But Alvin told me that J had taught him about sportsmanship. In Tallahassee, at the state qualifier, Jason and Alvin helping each other stretch. I see that picture so clearly. The looks of amazement on the faces of many of the other athletes. Here were two young men competing against each other to be the best, and they were HELPING each other. That was my J.

There are lots of pictures in my head. Then there is the last one. The one I wish I could make go away. The one that haunts me the entire month of March. I can feel the strength of his hug, the warmth of his arms. I can see the tears running down his face. I see him driving away, tears still flowing, one last look at his home, at his Mother. Arm raised in farewell. The last time I saw him alive. March 20, 2000. He didn’t die until May. I looked, but I couldn’t find him. Why couldn’t I find him, while he was still alive? How could he hide so well? That last look isn’t just a picture in my memory bank. It is burned into my soul. At 6:30pm, it’s been 9 years. It’s really only been 9 seconds.

Times are hard right now, but we have so much to be grateful for. Play with your kids. Maybe now our kids will start playing outside again, instead of sitting on the couch with the newest video game. Take your child for a walk. Go to the zoo. Don’t yell at them for tracking mud in the house… go outside and play in the rain with them. Please don’t take their childhood for granted. Every day brings something new, something special, something magical. Hold on to that.

I miss the “stuff” strewn all over the house. I miss the empty (except for one spoonful) ice cream containers in the freezer. I miss the (very expensive) television being used as a nightlight. I miss an unexpected flower, or a tee shirt he thought I’d like lying on my bed. I miss the missing CD’s. I miss it all, more than I can tell you. And it never goes away.

Take love where you find it. Don’t throw it away. Take joy where you find it. Don’t take it for granted. Don’t take for granted that someone will know you are thinking of them. Tell them. Please remember that some people, even in a crowded room, are lonely to the bone. Reach out to them. Life is incredibly short, even if we live to 90. Treasure your friends, and let them know what they mean to you. Live the three “r” ‘s…. Respect. For self. Respect. For others. Responsibility, For your actions. I know how hard it is, but try not to hold grudges. Some people that I thought were my friends hurt me badly. I’m trying not to let that hurt take control. It’s hard, realizing that people you love simply mouth the words to you, not meaning them at all. Simply be grateful for the good times together, and realize that they were either a reason or a season, not a lifetime.

Walk good and be blessed. I pray to all the Higher Powers that my life is never yours.

For those of you who pray, please hold my dear Butterfly Sister Rosaleen in your thoughts and prayers today. This is the day her Anthony chose to move to Heaven. I can promise you, the pain is as real now as it was then.

Maximum respect,

Brenda Adkins, always Red’s & Red Man’s Mom
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