Memoir - a way of keeping a loved one alive

Before I had any inkling that I would write my memoir, Leaving the Hall Light On: A Mother’s Memoir of Living withHer Son’s Bipolar and Surviving His Suicide, I wrote to keep the memory of my oldest son Paul alive. It was almost an obsession. I continually wrote down everything I could remember. I didn’t want to forget one thing about him.

Possibly his last photo

It turns out my notes and journal entries were a huge help when I began to put my memoir together. My journals – even short entries – informed and rounded out my writing immensely. What else is memoir but memories?

Here is a list of memories I wrote down in the early days after Paul’s death. I’m especially glad to have them this month – my birthday month – one of the times I miss him the most.

• I’ll always remember he slept without closing his eyes all the way
• I’ll always remember he walked fast and way ahead of us
• I’ll always remember he had long, thick, black eyelashes surrounding clear blue eyes
• I’ll always remember he played the piano, legs crossed at the knees, leaning way down over the keyboard
• I’ll always remember he liked to wear second-hand clothes and didn’t mind if they were ripped
• I’ll always remember the way he stood at the pantry door munching almonds
• I’ll always remember he liked to climb—trees, rocks, up the highest diving boards
• I’ll always remember he was meticulous about his things
• I’ll always remember he could play almost any tune by ear
• And that he was always a loner
• And how much he loved Janet
• And wasn’t hugged enough after she left him
• I’ll always remember he was sensitive
• I’ll always remember he drove too fast and erratically
• I’ll always remember he got lots of parking tickets
• I’ll always remember he was in love with John Lennon
• I’ll always remember he liked Doc Marten shoes
• I’ll always remember he tapped his foot when he sat down
• I’ll always remember seeing him on the stone stoop drinking coffee at Starbucks
• I won’t ever forget the feel of his cool pale skin the last night I saw him
• Or the sound of his voice
• I’ll always remember his hair was thick
• I can’t forget he knew all the nursery rhymes by the time he was two
• I’ll always remember that he and his brother called the back of the station wagon, “the really back”
• I’ll always remember he loved to fish.