those damn Facebook memories

I love the Facebook memories feature.

I also hate the Facebook memories feature.

It’s fun to scroll through the things I’ve said or posted in the past, especially when it involves chubby babies screaming at each other in an echoing hallway. (If I could figure out how to embed that video here, I would, but that would involve digging up old hard drives, and that’s pushing my laziness.)

But mostly the Facebook memories remind me of a few less-than-stellar things:

  • I used to share a lot of senseless content, just for the sake of sharing.
  • My old Android phone had a terrible camera (that I probably thought was good at the time. All hail the iPhone 6).
  • I used to complain about my kids not napping a LOT.

Also, my kids used to say a lot of hilarious things, like

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The other day I was reminded that Thanksgiving fell on November 22, 2012. And I was graced with this in my memories:

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This is one of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken. Two-year-old Zoe crawled into my Mimi’s lap for some snuggles on this Thanksgiving afternoon, a holiday that my grandmother herself had hosted for years and years, but this year she wasn’t up to it. This year the torch was passed to my sister and my parents, and we’ve had Thanksgiving at their house ever since.

Sometimes I forget that she’s not here anymore. I find myself going about my daily life, hardly giving it a thought. I’m the only family member that lives out of town, and I feel oddly disconnected a lot of the time. Just yesterday I spoke to my mom on the phone, and she asked me if I knew about my dad’s knee surgery.

“No,” I said, and with the maturity of a teenager, I followed up with, “No one tells me anything.” I knew my dad was planning on having his [second] knee replacement surgery, but as far as updates and plans, I am usually left out of the loop.

Living apart from so many physical reminders of my childhood aids in the forgetting. Once in a while though, I’ll be struck by something that reminds me of her so painfully, I can hardly breathe. Once it was a song playing in an episode of Friday Night Lights, something that was the exact type of music my grandparents would have playing on their stereo on a lazy Sunday post-church afternoon. Most times it’s a glimpse of a white-haired elderly woman in the grocery store. I bite my lip during the rest of my shopping and return to my car to cry with more force than I ever did on the day I found out she had passed, or even at her funeral. I’m struck dumbfounded at the idea that I will never see her again in this life.

Claire was having a rough night a few weeks ago. We sat on the couch together while she cried about getting disciplined and cried at feeling unloved, then cried because she missed her Mimi.

“Oh, honey, I miss her too,” I said. “I really do. But we’ll see her again some day.”

NaBloPoMo November 2015

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  1. Beautiful. She was a very special woman and is missed more than she could ever know. I too find myself going about my daily life and then a song will come on, or I will drive by somewhere that reminds me of her. Just yesterday, I had gotten the stuff for Thanksgiving and I am using the recipe she gave me for the dip that she and Mama always made. I remembered her saying something about one of the ingredients but couldn’t remember for sure and realized that I couldn’t just call her up and ask her. The other day, I was out driving and I passed by a street that I remember her always pronouncing funny when we would drive by it on our way to Casa View…..Cayuga!! It is times like that that hit the hardest. We will see her again, just not soon enough. Love and hugs coming your way. 🙂

  2. I actually get angry with myself when I look at how inane many of my posts were, way back when. But I always look through my memories, every day – because, despite random tweets and whatever, they’re always something that makes me remember something good.

  3. I too both enjoy and vehemently dislike the memories feature. Some stuff I don’t want to be reminded of, usually something sad or that I was tagged in but don’t want to remove myself from. So, I keep saying I don’t want to see this. I thought at one point I chose to not have the memories feature at all, but I’m guessing either I misunderstood or FB is a lying ass liar. (Usually I’m just cynical to the extent that I KNOW what I posted. If I want to see it again, I’ll look for it, thanks.)

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