Fading Memories

Of loved ones, long gone

by Bonnie Ann Lieberman

Photo by Stu Lauren on Unsplash

Decades have passed since my parents died. The memories I cherished most are slipping away, little by little. I can’t feel the warmth of their touch anymore, and the details of their faces are fading, too. I strain to remember the sound of my father’s footsteps as he hurried up the stairs in our apartment courtyard after another long day at work. He said he sometimes forced a tired smile after customers’ harsh words. As the manager of a women’s shoe store, he never dared leave that job — worried he wasn’t qualified for something better. I can barely recall my mom’s words of assurance, “We’re fine. I love you so much.” He was well-read, bright, and personable, But he never had the chance to finish college. My mom, though, worked for the city of New York as a civil servant. At least she had a steady salary and benefits. My dad accepted his lot because he cherished coming home to his family. His salary kept us afloat. I remember the affection my parents had for each other, but I can no longer see those tender moments in my mind’s eye. I wish I could replay the times my mom and dad cried with my sister and me when we experienced heartbreak. “When you cry, we cry”, they’d say. And, they always reassured us. “The glad days would erase the sad ones.” Why can’t I smell my mom’s chicken soup filling the hallway every Friday night, or picture her lighting Shabbos candles? I sometimes wonder if my own grown children will even care to look back when I am gone. Though memories will, in time, grow vague, I hope they’ll always know how deeply I loved them, and how fiercely I wanted them to be happy and healthy. happy and healthy for today and the rest of their lives.