When you think about the things that have implanted themselves as vivid memories in our minds, they can be divided up into two main categories: 1. The memories that we cherish and embrace and 2. The memories which pry their way into the depths of our minds, perhaps even crawling into our subconscious. The distinction is not that one is pleasant and the other traumatic. Rather, I think the difference is they tend to affect us and change us in different ways.
Even as I sit here on an airplane, my mind is easily flooded with joyous memories like the first time I kissed my wife at our middle school near Ms. Freedman's middle school math class or the night out when I first kissed my wife (again as an adult) in the Marina District in San Francisco. Or the time I saw my brother take first place in the 100-yd dash amongst a large crowd of kids and parents. The hazy morning when I went to check on the new dog which my parents brought home the night before. And the laughter that ensued when we realized she had chewed through her drawstring tether (she was only 3-4 weeks old). And, of course, my mind drifts towards the calm, warm, pristine waters from vacations past, and the monuments, architecture and culture of some of the world's great cities. These are the types of memories we indulge in, the ones that keep us striving for more, that add to the reasons we live beyond the usual daily grind of paychecks and errands.
In contrast, the sharp memories that pierce through even the most distracted minds are the ones that we remember because of the magnitude of the event, and the way it changed us when we experienced those moments.
Such as the time I saw my sister in law first hold and take care of her child. My view of her, the appreciation I have for her love as a mother, has forever been changed.
Or the time I stared, mesmerized and proud as I saw my brother helping to bottle feed his infant twins with milk bottles clipped to a visor and his pinkie finger acting as a "nipple." My baby brother, the one that looked up to me, was now teaching me how to be a caring and responsible father, and I realized further what a great man my brother had grown up to be.
The way my friend (who has always been as strong as an ox) suddenly needed to be hand fed pain pills when he became very sick, having difficulty breathing on his own. The mortality of us all seemed even more present as I watched my friend suffering from fractured vertebrae and ribs. While thoughts of all the things he had left to accomplish and the things he had left to see paralyzed me as I felt helpless to assuage his pain.
Or the specific details that I can account the day I found out about my azoospermia. The way my wife teared up and dropped her purse and lab coat as we met at the top of the staircase in our home. The way she cried and embraced me even before I said anything, as if she already knew what I was about to say. The minutes that seemed like hours that we clung to each other as we felt the world had abandoned us in the harshest way possible.
Sometimes we don't have the choice of what memories, images, and sounds embed themselves into our minds and, hence, our lives. Nor do we know how they will affect us. But the simple fact remains: they change us, for better or worse. And whether we like it or not, they run their course through our brains affecting the decisions we make, impacting our view of life, changing us from optimists to pessimists. Many times, they give us the reason to become cynics. But we all have the ability to turn our experiences, the traumas we endured, and the tragedies that persist into a proving ground that showcases our perseverance and determination. I don't think my wife and I are there yet, but we're making small and consistent strides. Taking notice, not of the large hill that lies ahead of us in the months before we go to Seoul to pick up our son Tae Yeong, but rather focusing on the enormous, atrocious, and rigorous mountain of events we've learned to live with, move past, and heal from. Because like a wound that causes pain and heals, there'll always be a reminder of what caused us to walk the path of life we live. However, once you've allowed yourself time to heal, if you can find it in yourself to seek out a bit of diligence and zeal, to your amazement you may find that some of these harsh memories have turned to scars: reminding us of past lessons and experiences that have transformed the way we appear and carry ourselves, while leaving us more resilient to the never ending hurdles of life.
