That’s a common enough phrase or concept.
When it comes to this blog, I occasionally experience a few minutes or so in which I don’t know what direction to go in.
More often I experience the fear block.
Like today. Today I am writing here to avoid writing over there… There being one of four projects I need to work on.
I am afraid of my own dreams and desires. Isn’t that a kick in the pants? I am afraid of failure and almost paralyzed by it.
So in my fear, I experienced a little bit of writers block here–and then made the connection between writer’s block and memory block.
This is where it led me…
Sorrow, pain, and grief can sometimes make you have some memory blocks. It is possible to have memory blocks as a sort of protection against the pain. It is possible in your grief and sorrow to only remember certain things–particularly those things that are less painful.
From my long experience as a preacher, death often turns people into saints when the truth is they were normal people with the same flaws and predilections as anybody else. Or worse.
And me? I have some self imposed memory blocks I would really rather stay in place.
It is easier that way.
Less guilt to suffer.
I would much rather remember my son Cole as a happy young man who loved everybody he met–who would tease and aggravate and even turn on his own favorite football team if it meant he could get under your skin.
All those things are true.
Cole was a bundle of laughs and pure fun.
And he didn’t mind telling you so.
But the painful truth? He was just as often angry, mad, and in a level of pain that would have destroyed a lessor mortal.
That made for plenty of difficult days.
Horrible bad days.
Days in which everything got turned upside down and every which way.
Mom and Dad suffered on those days too. So did his brothers.
It was painful to watch.
It was painful if he got his hands on you.
It is painful still to remember and feel guilty about all the many ways this daddy didn’t always handle those episodes with the right patience, grace, and love.
Yes, I would rather have a memory block about Cole’s suffering and my inadequacies as a father.
I am thankful that as time progresses I think I find I am a bit easier on myself.
Less inclined to beat up on me.
In hindsight, I didn’t handle everything just right, but I was doing the best I knew how under difficult circumstances.
With that perspective in place, I am thankful for the good memories.
And grateful the bad are becoming less and less important to dwell on.
So here we are.
One of my favorite rock songs–sung by one of my favorite bands, Journey–is Stone In Love.
I’d like to end this little post by changing up the last couple of lines just a bit…
Oh the memories never fade away,
Golden boy, I’ll keep you forever…