We Remember Them

When I worked as a chaplain and bereavement counselor for hospice, people who had recently experienced the death of a parent, spouse, or child would sometimes ask me how long it would take to process their grief. At the time I worked for hospice, there were several popular writers about grief and loss, who believe we can move through grief in a linear way. These grief experts claimed grieving people could go through the stages of grief in 12-13 months. And while it might be reassuring to hear this, what I have found to be true is that there is no time-line for recovering from grief. Instead, grief work is something we must keep attending to throughout our lives.

Recently, I had some time to kill between an appointment with a client and a coffee date with a friend. So I decided to go through my phone contacts and clean them out. During this time I cleaned out many phone numbers of old business contacts I had not been in touch with in years, but I also deleted the phone numbers for my boss and friend, Aline, my sister-in-law, Mary Kate, and my dad. My sister-in-law died 10 years ago of brain cancer. My former, boss, Aline died 6 years ago of Parkinson’s, and my dad died nearly 3 years ago of COVID and Lewy Body dementia. When I deleted each one of their names I felt pain in my heart space. And by the time I had deleted my deceased sister-in-law’s name from my phone, tears ran down my face. How had it taken me 10 years to delete her number? I had many opportunities to delete these numbers, but I never did. I saw the names of these three dear people in my phone all the time and perhaps I just wasn’t ready to delete them. Maybe holding space for them in my phone was a way of preserving their memory.

Both clients and loved ones have shared with me the pain and healing power of calling a loved ones phone number after they die, to hear their voice on the message. It is common to want to listen the voice of our beloved again.

There is something about deleting a loved ones phone number that feels symbolically final. Just like the finality of the funeral, it is another gesture cementing our separation.

Those ten uniquely combined numbers hold remembrances of our conversations and our life together with the person we miss. For example, many moons ago when I worked as a pastor and later an interim pastor, my dad would call me every Saturday night to listen to my sermon. He would always offer a word of encouragement about the sermon, but he also provided gentle and constructive feedback. I look back now and remember how sacred and powerful that Saturday night ritual with my dad was. I have seen his number many times in my phone and wished desperately that I could have one last phone conversation with him.

I also believe deleting the phone numbers of my three departed loved ones, was an exercise in remembering the fundamental vulnerability of my own death. One day when I die, my loved ones will delete my number. For some this task will be easy, but I imagine that a handful will find it challenging. Deleting the phone numbers of my own deceased loved ones was a reminder of my own mortality, and perhaps a whisper from God to keep living my days to the fullest.

Some people might contend that deleting the numbers was a trigger or setback in my grief process. I would argue that it was an opportunity to process and feel another layer of grief for my departed father, sister-in-law, and former boss.

The same day I deleted the numbers of my special deceased loved ones, I spoke to my brother, husband, and a friend about how hard it had been to delete the numbers of these precious saints who had gone before me. It is important to verbalize our grief and feelings with safe people. And on the same evening in bed, I found my self praying a Jewish Prayer in honor of my dad, Aline, and Mary Kate. I often recited this prayer to clients who were grieving when I worked for hospice. The holidays can be a season where feelings of grief are heightened and so during this time of year, I encourage you to make space to verbalize and feel your grief. If there is someone you are grieving, I invite you to read this Jewish prayer either out loud or silently in honor of the person or people you dearly miss.

We Remember Them

by Sylan Kamens & Rabbi Jack Riemer

At the rising sun and at its going down; We remember them.

At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter; We remember them.

At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring; We remember them.

At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer; We remember them.

At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of the autumn; We remember them.

At the beginning of the year and when it ends; We remember them.

As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as We remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength; We remember them.

When we are lost and sick at heart; We remember them.

When we have decisions that are difficult to make; We remember them.

When we have joy we crave to share; We remember them.

When we have achievements that are based on theirs; We remember them.

For as long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as, We remember them.

A version of this article was originally published in the Lookout Mountain Mirror.