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.
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| 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.
