“Our attachment to memories is an effort to capture time and preserve it. A vain attempt to avoid the guilt associated with forgotten moments, to avoid the feeling that we have wasted our time, that time is slipping away.”
Oh, to be a sunflower that worries not about the remembering.
Oh, to be a sunflower that simply is,
And with that existence gives a moment of happiness to someone else.
What a beautiful piece, Ryan. Thank you for sharing it.
I doubt you will ever forget your father raising that sunflower to his face, which clearly made such an impression on you. There is nothing cliche about the last moments of a dying man. Especially since you made a point of writing it down, here in this post or elsewhere. That is the point of memory. That is also the point of writing these moments down, so that later on if our brain falters, we will still have that moment.
I wrote down all the important moments when my husband was in the hospital dying of cancer, and kept a journal in the years before and since. My words, jotted down, have brought me nothing but comfort and remembrances when I look back, even at the most mundane of details that I could not possibly remember, because that was our life together. My brain can’t hold it all, it’s impossible. But my journals can help.
More often than not it is those insignificant moments of day to day life that become the everlasting memories. Small delights. I throughly enjoyed this read, Ryan.
We gathered at his bedside. My mother and my 5 siblings also his remaining sister. my brother had just arrived from South America and after a short prayer my mother turned the machines that were keeping my Father alive off. We all said our goodbyes and every one left except myself. I was to keep vigil. I noticed that Dad needed a shave and i gathered the necessary shaving implements all the while talking about what i was doing. I had started to shave him and was telling him about my earliest memories of watching him shave and also of the advice he gave me when i started to shave. He stopped breathing. I said "don't you go yet until I have finished shaving you" a moment passed tears were starting to form, and Dad started breathing again. I finished shaving him and brushed his hair and told him that he looked presentable now and then he died. It was the last gift he gave to me and i am forever grateful as we had a somewhat turbulent relationship but he was and is always my role model
Thanks for sharing Bill. There are definitely some special moments at the end regardless of the ones that came before, as was my case and yours it seems.
I appreciated this post, Ryan. Even more so having been the only person with my father when he passed away in a similar state in hospital last year. Time is something we discussed often in my younger days. Is it a constant? What if you could go back? Celebrate and cherish the memories, even if they have been edited or jumbled slightly. Keep them alive.
A beautiful article Ryan. Made me teary. Memories become good memories when we are not trying to make it memorable don't they. Your action and his action were so impromptu, which makes that moment so special.
Time is the most valuable thing one has and the most valuable thing they can offer. Nice article Butta! Sunflowers are the best so protective and shiny.
Poignancy, pathos, the passage of time - travels to Cumborah, to Italy, into memory. And what it is that remains of the latter... Your father's life, the sun flower, the fields of spring-time in the northern hemisphere as to-day we enter our own here in the southern part of the world. Accumulations of experiences - some crowded out, seemingly - others harder to pinpoint. I know the latter - of my years in Japan - of travels since my return. I found myself making lists easily referenced: - 2015 - the RV from Seattle to Alaska - then cousins in BC and time in California...; 2016 Dallas, Savannah - Caribbean cruise to see kinfolk on Grand Cayman, Miami, Mexico-city to Cuba x three weeks - driving Miami to New Orleans and Dallas. Singapore to Sabah - Kota Kinabalu and Sandakan (Death March territory) Japan - Tokyo to far western Honshu); 2017 Four capitals: Adelaide, Melbourne, Hobart and Brisbane - later Roma, Morocco, Malta, walking the Amalfi heights, staying in Agerola and then fairytale Atrani (Escher was inspired here) - catching the bus to Salerno! Train to Napoli...on to Athens, Kalamata; 2018 Kangaroo Island Adelaide Perth and south-west W.A. FNQ - Innisfail, Port Douglas etc.; 2019 München, Berlin, Warsaw, Kraków, Prague, BudaPest, Zagreb - Plivice Lakes, Beograd, Bucharest - and a month in Portugal - Porto, walking "caminho português" north, Braga, Coimbra, Santarém, Lisbon... Azerbaijan-Baku, Georgia-Tbilisi, Armenia-Yerevan; 2020/2021 - the big halt - but travels to most corners of NSW; 2022 - overseas again - to a circuit of Tasmania and to the far south coast of NSW - Eden and Twofold Bay... This was self-indulgent to make that listing but in truth I was reminding myself - and yet had already mistaken the years when I started to write - proving your point - I had to turn to my list.
I'm writing a tribute to a mate in Japan who passed away last Christmas Day. We met first in early 2004. He was a Shintō priest. Just four years my junior. A great friend - he and his wife. As I delved into my diaries to extract some memories to include in a piece to send to his family I became immersed in all the memories of the busiest years of my life - professionally, travel, friendships and so forth - and the piece I wanted to write within a week or two blew out into something still not finished and now around 30,000 words. A listing of paragraphs of chronological order - a linking of a life to interactions - and exhausting in the writing. A day or two of remembering and writing is followed by a week or two or more before I can re-enter the memories - the places and names... Your linking of your father and the sun flower reminds us/me of how a random perfume evokes so much - the scent of wattle or jasmine, of daphne or freesia - and I might be standing beneath the tall wattle in the playground of West Tamworth Infants school in 1955. Or walking the 88-temple pilgrimage path around Shikoku - and there it was the jasmine in spring bloom reminding me of my mother-in-law's jasmine back in Swansea NSW; the daphne - from a bleak late winter in Yokohama in 1991 - walking to Kikuna Eki; and freesias - wild freesias on an undeveloped hillside near the Mater Hospital in Newcastle - we'd stop and pluck a handful heading from Swansea back to Port Stephens where we lived and taught... Jim (In Japan the autumn is marked by the viewing of the red leaves - and in various places vast fields of cosmos also draw crowds - and always I would think of my maternal grand-mother who had random cosmos scattered through her vegetable patch in north-western Sydney near Hornsby!)
Beautifully written, Ryan. It is true that "Time resists capture" ... it is the impression of moments and events that we retain and try to remember...but impressions can fade over time.
I too had a quiet moment with my Father, in my mind and exactly at the moment of his passing ... we were about 9,200 kms apart at the time. Strange how such moments can create deep impressions.
“Our attachment to memories is an effort to capture time and preserve it. A vain attempt to avoid the guilt associated with forgotten moments, to avoid the feeling that we have wasted our time, that time is slipping away.”
Oh, to be a sunflower that worries not about the remembering.
Oh, to be a sunflower that simply is,
And with that existence gives a moment of happiness to someone else.
What a beautiful piece, Ryan. Thank you for sharing it.
Thanks for reading Holly.
I doubt you will ever forget your father raising that sunflower to his face, which clearly made such an impression on you. There is nothing cliche about the last moments of a dying man. Especially since you made a point of writing it down, here in this post or elsewhere. That is the point of memory. That is also the point of writing these moments down, so that later on if our brain falters, we will still have that moment.
I wrote down all the important moments when my husband was in the hospital dying of cancer, and kept a journal in the years before and since. My words, jotted down, have brought me nothing but comfort and remembrances when I look back, even at the most mundane of details that I could not possibly remember, because that was our life together. My brain can’t hold it all, it’s impossible. But my journals can help.
Thanks for reading and sharing your story Pri. The journaling is certainly a great help.
Perfect response to this beautiful post, Pri.
More often than not it is those insignificant moments of day to day life that become the everlasting memories. Small delights. I throughly enjoyed this read, Ryan.
Thanks Amy and well put... Small delights.
I love this, mate.
Remember me when you get to the top.
I'm convinced there is no top.
We gathered at his bedside. My mother and my 5 siblings also his remaining sister. my brother had just arrived from South America and after a short prayer my mother turned the machines that were keeping my Father alive off. We all said our goodbyes and every one left except myself. I was to keep vigil. I noticed that Dad needed a shave and i gathered the necessary shaving implements all the while talking about what i was doing. I had started to shave him and was telling him about my earliest memories of watching him shave and also of the advice he gave me when i started to shave. He stopped breathing. I said "don't you go yet until I have finished shaving you" a moment passed tears were starting to form, and Dad started breathing again. I finished shaving him and brushed his hair and told him that he looked presentable now and then he died. It was the last gift he gave to me and i am forever grateful as we had a somewhat turbulent relationship but he was and is always my role model
Thanks for sharing Bill. There are definitely some special moments at the end regardless of the ones that came before, as was my case and yours it seems.
I appreciated this post, Ryan. Even more so having been the only person with my father when he passed away in a similar state in hospital last year. Time is something we discussed often in my younger days. Is it a constant? What if you could go back? Celebrate and cherish the memories, even if they have been edited or jumbled slightly. Keep them alive.
I agree Luigi. Thanks for reading.
Powerful, raw, beautiful.
Yet again you’ve managed to immerse your followers into your story as if we were sitting across the table from you, or travelling beside you buddy
Thanks mate.
A beautiful article Ryan. Made me teary. Memories become good memories when we are not trying to make it memorable don't they. Your action and his action were so impromptu, which makes that moment so special.
Thanks Kana. It was our conversation about time that got me thinking about this.
Thanks for sharing re your father . Loved reading this .
As a palliative care nurse so grateful to read this as we tend in our society to avoid talking /sharing of death outside the eulogy / funerals .
Thank you
100% agree. And when we have to talk about it we don't know how to. Maybe we can change that. Thanks for reading.
Time is the most valuable thing one has and the most valuable thing they can offer. Nice article Butta! Sunflowers are the best so protective and shiny.
No doubt about it, A-Lo!
Poignancy, pathos, the passage of time - travels to Cumborah, to Italy, into memory. And what it is that remains of the latter... Your father's life, the sun flower, the fields of spring-time in the northern hemisphere as to-day we enter our own here in the southern part of the world. Accumulations of experiences - some crowded out, seemingly - others harder to pinpoint. I know the latter - of my years in Japan - of travels since my return. I found myself making lists easily referenced: - 2015 - the RV from Seattle to Alaska - then cousins in BC and time in California...; 2016 Dallas, Savannah - Caribbean cruise to see kinfolk on Grand Cayman, Miami, Mexico-city to Cuba x three weeks - driving Miami to New Orleans and Dallas. Singapore to Sabah - Kota Kinabalu and Sandakan (Death March territory) Japan - Tokyo to far western Honshu); 2017 Four capitals: Adelaide, Melbourne, Hobart and Brisbane - later Roma, Morocco, Malta, walking the Amalfi heights, staying in Agerola and then fairytale Atrani (Escher was inspired here) - catching the bus to Salerno! Train to Napoli...on to Athens, Kalamata; 2018 Kangaroo Island Adelaide Perth and south-west W.A. FNQ - Innisfail, Port Douglas etc.; 2019 München, Berlin, Warsaw, Kraków, Prague, BudaPest, Zagreb - Plivice Lakes, Beograd, Bucharest - and a month in Portugal - Porto, walking "caminho português" north, Braga, Coimbra, Santarém, Lisbon... Azerbaijan-Baku, Georgia-Tbilisi, Armenia-Yerevan; 2020/2021 - the big halt - but travels to most corners of NSW; 2022 - overseas again - to a circuit of Tasmania and to the far south coast of NSW - Eden and Twofold Bay... This was self-indulgent to make that listing but in truth I was reminding myself - and yet had already mistaken the years when I started to write - proving your point - I had to turn to my list.
I'm writing a tribute to a mate in Japan who passed away last Christmas Day. We met first in early 2004. He was a Shintō priest. Just four years my junior. A great friend - he and his wife. As I delved into my diaries to extract some memories to include in a piece to send to his family I became immersed in all the memories of the busiest years of my life - professionally, travel, friendships and so forth - and the piece I wanted to write within a week or two blew out into something still not finished and now around 30,000 words. A listing of paragraphs of chronological order - a linking of a life to interactions - and exhausting in the writing. A day or two of remembering and writing is followed by a week or two or more before I can re-enter the memories - the places and names... Your linking of your father and the sun flower reminds us/me of how a random perfume evokes so much - the scent of wattle or jasmine, of daphne or freesia - and I might be standing beneath the tall wattle in the playground of West Tamworth Infants school in 1955. Or walking the 88-temple pilgrimage path around Shikoku - and there it was the jasmine in spring bloom reminding me of my mother-in-law's jasmine back in Swansea NSW; the daphne - from a bleak late winter in Yokohama in 1991 - walking to Kikuna Eki; and freesias - wild freesias on an undeveloped hillside near the Mater Hospital in Newcastle - we'd stop and pluck a handful heading from Swansea back to Port Stephens where we lived and taught... Jim (In Japan the autumn is marked by the viewing of the red leaves - and in various places vast fields of cosmos also draw crowds - and always I would think of my maternal grand-mother who had random cosmos scattered through her vegetable patch in north-western Sydney near Hornsby!)
Thanks for reading Jim. Sounds like you have an interesting book in the works.
As I may have written to you - I am NOT a writer - nothing of your brilliance! - A plodding diarist, perhaps...
Hoping for a safe passing for your Dad
Thank you Lisa.
Keep writing. I look forward to seeing them in my in box.
That is lovely to hear, Rita. Thank you.
Beautifully written, Ryan. It is true that "Time resists capture" ... it is the impression of moments and events that we retain and try to remember...but impressions can fade over time.
I too had a quiet moment with my Father, in my mind and exactly at the moment of his passing ... we were about 9,200 kms apart at the time. Strange how such moments can create deep impressions.