The Gift of Remembering

The other day my girls and I were enjoying a play date at a friend’s house. We had lunch, the children played happily and we two Moms relished in much needed adult conversation amid winter break. Conversations varied from the chaos of the holidays, the amazement of our rapidly growing children and upcoming book club. The conversation somehow turned towards our children’s names. The two oldest daughters had come to join in at this time and were each glad to share the meaning of their name and comment on the lack of name popularity they both shared. We then talked about middle names of our kids and without missing a beat my friend asked what the middle names of our twins are. She asked this not with a whispered tone, but just as though they were in the other room playing. I happily shared that James’s middle name is Anthony, which is also my father’s middle name, and Penelope’s middle name is Ann, which is in both sides of our family. I laughed a bit at my regret of not spelling Ann with an e, as Anne of Green Gables did. Then our conversation continued and flowed into a new topic.

She may not have realized in that moment what a gift she gave me. To speak my children’s names and tell stories about them, all of them. Not just the two playing in her home that day. This is something so wonderful and rare for a bereaved parent. I cried when I got home. Not because I was sad or missing my babies more than usual. In fact quite the opposite. I cried because for a few minutes I was the mother of four that I truly am and my heart swelled with joy and pride. These moments are few and far between for the bereaved parent. We love our children, all of our children. Please remember that whenever you speak their names or allow us to share a piece of them with you it is truly a gift.