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As I grow older I am reminded of much that I have forgotten.  Usually by those who say I should not forget.  Forgetting is seen as a bad thing.  On the one hand it is a marker of my own failing mortality.  On the other a disrespect for those I love.  For if I truly loved them then I would remember our interactions.  All of them.

I get told.

I look at our young grandchildren.  Eagerly learning about every second of living every day.  A living crammed with so much new stuff that they change – if not daily – faster than we ever think practical.  It is why parents miss so much with all the working and living and humdrum of being grown-up parents.  It is why as a grandparent I make being here a priority.  Because in a year or two at most our doting wee ones will become independent curious ones.

And so it should be.

They will not remember every detail of these few precious years.  Nor will our children -these wee ones’ parents.  Nor will my own soulmate and partner.  Nor will I.  No one will remember every detail.

It is when we each remember something (we hold important) that another does not.  And then we multiply that by enough examples … THEN we feel unloved even though we ARE loved.

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And we each do THAT to each other.

But not the wee ones.  The wee ones are exempt because they are growing and changing.  Which infers grown-ups are no longer doing either.  Which misses the point completely.

How am I to be remembered?  And will I be remembered (when I cannot even remember increasing dollops of my own living)?  I think yes.

If I allow.

If I allow that Love is universal and timeless. That my Love influences/changes/is in one I love.  And that Love lives on in those they Love and who Love them.  That Love is in the seed of creation. Is in the foetus of life.  Is in the bond between two people who nurture new life. Even before that life knows anything about love or life or nurture.  Even before the two creators know much about much either!

Like me.  Like you.  Like all of us.

Because all the tragedies, loss, pain, emptiness and anger that I read of – hear of – see in the media – in my own life – in every community … isn’t that an expression of the absence of the Love we each desire (and know)?

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The longer I love the more I think that we all know Love – whether by being bathed in Love or starved of Love.  We all know Love – without even knowing Love.  And if I am to be remembered for anything … I choose to be remembered for bathing those I Love in Love.

The alternative is to be remembered for not.  And then those in my lifetime will move on to find others who do bathe them in Love.  And I will be remembered for the wrong reasons.  Or forgotten completely.

Love changes us – whether or not we love or are loved.

It is why I love the bible.  It speaks of love in all its forms: literal, figurative, imagery, allegory, illusion, real and hoped-for.  It speaks of the absence of love and the caution of replacing love with “club rules”.  It tells of the hope of love being timeless and universal.  It compares the absence of love with the presence of love.

It allows me to decide which I will be, who I will be, and what I will be.  It invites me to choose.  To follow blindly – or to love individually – to evolve in my own lifetime and leave a legacy of love.  It invites me to be who I am – to become who I can be – and to be remembered not for “doing stuff” – but for who I Am.

And there is The Bible in all its simplicity:

I Am

(again)

I think we need to redefine what “being remembered” means … what “if you loved me” means … that we actually never do stop changing and learning (and forgetting) … and why love evolves each of us (which means evolution is a topic of love and not dogma).

I Am.

Simple!

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Thank you “Dropping the Project”, by Healing Road (have a read – it is a thought provoking post)

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