Short memory

Does anyone remember that song "Short Memory" by Midnight Oil?? I think it was probably released late 80's or early 90's.

I couldn't get it out of my head last night. Thinking about people who have short memories ... and being rather envious of them.

I don't have a short memory. Sure, I forget what I said to Craig 5 minutes ago, and I can't remember the book I read yesterday, but life-changing events ... nope, I'm a long memory person.

It seems some fellow bloggers have had similar thoughts recently. I put it down to it being Memorial Day in the USA recently, but for me (an Aussie in Amsterdam) it's just me thinking about my kids.

In the first year after Freyja's death I recall thinking about those awful days (24/25 July 2006) all the time. I could not get those events out of my head. I wondered what had happened. I wondered how it could have happened. I wondered whose fault it was that it happened.

I thought about the events leading up to Freyja's birth/death all the time.

My husband didn't understand this until Kees died. Then he had the same thing. Then he understood.

I remember a few weeks after Freyja died, I was sitting in my parents back garden with my mum and I started crying. My mum was obviously sad and upset to see my tears, and she said to me to not cry. Hah! Not cry???? What a joke. I guess it was difficult for her to see her daughter cry. I wonder how she would have coped if she saw her daughter die.

Some months (maybe six or so) after Freyja's death I told my parents that I'd found books on death and loss very helpful. I offered to lend them some to read. They scoffed at me and said those books were obviously "secular books" (ie. not christian) and they weren't going to read them. The implication was obvious: I should be reading christian books only.

When I confronted my mother with this memory she denied it ever happening. She vehemently denied that she would have ever said such a thing. However, Craig and I remember the moment clearly (Craig was there) -- it was one of those defining moments when I realised that my parents would never think about the loss of my children in the same way I would.

Following Kees' death, I made my mother read one of those books - I made her read the SANDS publication "When A Baby Dies". I think she was shocked when she read about all those dead babies. Previously she had said to me when I was concerned for the welfare of my baby (Freyja was still healthy inside me then), that "that sort of thing doesn't happen in our family". Because until then neither she nor my two sisters had had any "problems" with pregnancies. (Note: since that time I've buried Freyja and Kees and one sister has had two early miscarriages. Mum doesn't say stupid things like that any more.)

Anyway, back to the short memories.

My sister J (see my previous blog) will swear to anyone who asks that she's been nothing but supportive of me and Craig in our losses. Honestly she will say that. And I'm sure that deep in her mind somewhere she honestly believes that she's done all that she can do for us. In fact, somewhere in her mind she'll believe that WE have been unfair to her and that SHE is in fact the one who has suffered because of our unfairness to her. Short memories.

When I lie awake at night, listening to the rain or the wind, I wish that my memories were short. I wish that I didn't relive those awful days again and again. I wish that I could bury those memories so deep that they'd never surface again.

You see, those memories are intensely traumatic memories for me. Those events brought fundamental changes into my life. And they weren't good changes. They were bad changes. Very bad changes. Nothing good has come from those events. Those memories are horrific memories. And the only person I can share those memories with are Craig. He's the only one who shares those horrific images with me. The only person who doesn't turn away from those events or those memories.

Because that's what people do you know. They turn away. And of course I know why -- because the memories are so awful. Why would anyone choose to let awful memories (horrific memories) dwell in their minds? That's why my mum doesn't want to see my tears - they remind her of the horrific events that have happened. That's why my friends don't want to talk about Freyja or Kees -- because they don't want to talk about those horrific events. That's why everyone is "moving on" (or actually they moved on some time ago).

I bet my mum doesn't lie awake at night remembering that day in July 2006 when the doctors didn't find a heartbeat. I bet she doesn't lie awake at night remembering Kees and his beautiful but poor, battered body when it was pumped full of drugs after the paramedics resuscitated him but his brain had already died. I bet she doesn't remember the image I have in my head of my son after he'd been autopsied.

These are the types of images which fill my mind. I try very, very hard to lock those images away. I really do. I have to, you know. If I can't lock them away, I think I'll go mad. But the problem is that no matter how hard I try, they escape sometimes. And then I lie awake at night remembering.

Sometimes I long desperately for a short memory.