Nostalgic Memories and Family Traditions: A Personal Reflection

The wisps of melancholy flow through my body as the airplane lifts off the Syracuse tarmac, and I head back home to Phoenix. It has been a whirlwind weekend celebrating my daughter’s wedding and seeing family and friends. As I move across the sky, my body aches as I leave those I love behind and all the memories of my life that reside there. Poor sleep for the last month and jetlag intensifies these feelings. I’ve learned that I must give myself time to recover physically and emotionally as I return to the routines of my regular life and the special days still coming through July 7^th.

 I’ve become much more vulnerable to these days that once brought joy as they are intertwined with the relationships of the people whom I’ve loved who have died or I’m no longer in a relationship with. From the time I was married, the beginning of June until the beginning of July were days of celebration: wedding anniversary, Father’s Day, and birthdays. However, after Mike died, these days became harder. I no longer had the one person who shared the experience of those times, especially the birth of our twin girls. Now, with the death of my parents, there’s another lost connection to the people who knew me for my whole life. It doesn’t matter what age you are when your parents die; the sting of not having them ground you anymore is painful.

It was nice to spend two days with my daughter before her wedding, then stay with our family friends of fifty years for the rest of my stay. So many nights had been spent there, alternating for Friday night dinners and card games between their home and ours. I love hearing how mom initiated the dinners by asking our friend what she was having for dinner when she came to pick up my youngest sister from playing with her daughter. When Judy told her what she was having, my mom said she’d get what she made and bring it back so we could have dinner together. This is so reflective of my mom’s friendly personality. Thus, a lifelong family friendship was established.

While I was in Syracuse, I felt connected to my loved ones who had died at almost every place I visited. One day, I went to Skaneateles Lake with my sister. This was where Mike spent part of his childhood and gave me my engagement ring on a dinner cruise. When I returned east, I frequently visited Doug’s Fish Fry in Skaneateles with my parents, their favorite restaurant. We’d eat outside at picnic tables, then walk down to the lake. I remember the summer I went back after Mike died and feeling a twinge of jealousy, followed by guilt, as I watched my parents walking hand in hand. I didn’t begrudge my parents’ relationship but longed to hold Mike’s hand again. I find holding hands a beautiful act of intimacy.

I rented a car in Syracuse, only to return it after two days because I’d put just eleven miles on it. Our family friend took me to return it and told me he had to make one stop on the way home, Harrison Bakery. This is the bakery that I’ve gone to for as long as I can remember. Every Sunday growing up, we’d have baked goods from Harrison at my grandparents’ house with my aunt and cousins. Birthday cakes were usually bought there, as was our wedding cake. I got my favorite half-moon cookies when we stopped, known as black and white cookies in other regions. The aroma of fresh baked goods brought back all the visits there with my dad. I had challenged Dad when I was in eighth grade that if he would give up cigarettes, I would give up sweets. Only Dad succeeded. He loved to tease me about the fact that I never gave up sweets but always said that he was grateful that he stopped smoking.

My favorite ice cream parlor is Peter’s Polar Palace. I was able to make three trips there during my visit. When we were first married, Mike and I lived nearby and would stop for a treat in the summertime. Whenever I visited my parents, first when we lived several hours away when the kids were young and then when I visited from Phoenix during the summer, there was always at least one stop at Pete’s. This is just as much a sentimental stop for me as for the delicious treats.

So much has changed in the last twelve years since I last saw Mike. Learning to live again in the bittersweetness that is life has been challenging, especially living without my parents for the last two years. Having lived through the pain of these significant deaths, there is a feeling of vulnerability that when I leave my loved ones, I might never see them again. I know this is a reality from my experience. My dad always said that I have a tender heart. I still feel my emotions profoundly and miss those I love. My new life is much different than I imagined when I started my married life. Because of what I’ve lived through, I appreciate acts of kindness more, and I’m also drawn to people who understand grief without judgment. I’m willing to walk through the sorrow of transitions to spend time with those I love.

For resources I’ve found helpful on my journey, visit my grief resources page.