In my Baby Book, six weeks after my dad had passed away, my mom wrote:
On June 8, you said, “Soon will be Dad’s birthday.” Mom told you it was yesterday. Then you said, “Yes, but we didn’t have him.”
Then in July, a month later Mom recorded:
When we passed the graveyard on Sunday you said, “When that pile of dirt goes down, Dad will have stood up.”
On Friday, October 4, 1968, almost six months after my dad’s funeral Emma wrote about me in her diary:
At Nellie’s funeral she stood real close to the grave. I believe she wanted to see what graves were like.”
The funeral has been lost somewhere within my memory. I believe it’s buried somewhere with the memory of the pain attached to it.
My childhood was a happy one. When adults asked me about my dad I remember telling them about the good memories I had and then adding, “I’m glad he died when I was so young that way I was too young to remember any sense of loss. They all believed me. I did too until one day when I was twenty-five.
How can one grieve and release a buried memory? While hypnosis has crossed my mind, it leaves me feeling uncomfortable. There is a reason God created our minds with the amazing ability to block out memories that cause overload. Is that a part of his promise to not allow more than we can handle to come into our lives? (1 Corinthians 10:13)
I believe that eventually, when my emotions are healed enough to handle it, the memory will return. Acknowledging that there was a loss has been the first step in receiving that healing. In His time God will show me the next step along that path.