Smiling through the tears and remembering the good times

A few weeks ago I wrote about how important it was to remember Brian’s life, and not just the day he died.

Today I was reminded of the significance of this. I attended the celebration of life for a man named Tony. I knew Tony because he lived at the homeless encampment in Biddeford where Brian and I, along with some folks from The Rock Church, would bring lunch. He had once worked in the mail room at the Journal Tribune, where I had worked for more than 13 years as a reporter, and when I saw him I’d joke about us being JT alums. He was friendly and engaging, and never forgot to thank us for bringing food to the encampment or remind us that we were doing a good thing. He was a spiritual person, and was always looking out for others at the encampment.

At the celebration of life today at Second Congregational Church, people spoke about Tony’s kindness toward others. He may not have had a lot of material things, but his friends and family said he always put other people’s needs before his own. They also talked about his love for sports, particularly the Patriots; the joy he found in making people laugh, and memories of fun times they had with him over the years.

One person who spoke repeated something that Tony once told him – that people die twice. The first time is when their body stops functioning, and the second time is when their stories stop being told.

When I heard those words, it was like a lightning bolt struck my heart. I haven’t been writing as much in my memory journal as I should, and this was the reminder I needed to continue to write memories of Brian.

It’s also a reminder to talk about him. The final chapter of his life on earth has ended, but his story is still there to be told.

In the first few months after he died, it often hurt to talk about Brian. But now that I have no choice but to realize that I’m in the next chapter of life – the one without him – it’s been helpful to share stories about Brian. Sure, there are still times when a reminder of Brian will bring tears to my eyes, and that will continue indefinitely. But I’m realizing that there are times that I can talk about the years we spent together and smile.

On Saturday, a friend came over and helped me prep some of Brian’s old T-shirts for a T-shirt quilt. She told me a funny childhood memory, and it made me think of a childhood story of Brian’s that I used to tease him about. I told her the story, and we laughed, and it felt good. It even felt normal.

I’m not sure when, or if ever, life will ever feel 100 percent normal, but I’ll take the moments when I can get them.

Liz Gotthelf is the publisher of Saco Bay News. She is stumbling through life after the recent and unexpected loss of her husband, and will periodically write columns about it as she processes everything. She can be reached at newsdesk@sacobaynews.com.