"Unspeakable memories," a thought that is disturbingly beautiful and hauntingly damaging. A friend recently brought this to my attention, and when they said it, I was left mouth agape...how many times or relationships do we have in our lives that have these unspeakable memories?
Sometimes I wonder if I were to stand before my old best friend and look at her re4membering the stories we used to tell each other. You know...the ones that only the most sacred of people share, or what if I were to stand in front of my ex with that knowing look that says, "Yes, I used to love you with everything that I have," knowing that in that moment we no longer share that same type of love. It is these unspeakable memories that break my heart, and yet in a sense build moments that last a lifetime.
The most damaging part of these kinds of memories is the idea that in the midst of the crowd of people while you stand apart from the person you share this memory with, you make a subtle eye contact wondering on some level if the memory your see flash before your eyes is the one that is playing like a movie in theirs. But what if they are able to move past those memories much easier than we are? This also breaks my heart. I always imagined that I was the one who hurt more in the breaking of a relationship (not strictly speaking a love relationship.) That perhaps, I was the one who could only experience all the damaging pain that happened, and the other person escaped unscathed. How selfish!
I don't know at what point a relationship moves from times of making memories to the times that we are no longer able to speak about them, but in that state of flux we find ourselves. I truly believe that the love, care, and concern we have for one another is what builds any relationship. These unspeakable memories can be the tie that binds that love and care and concern of ours to the whole realm of humanity. How so? Because we transcend ourselves in the process of no longer being able to speak of what we experienced with another soul.
I find the memories of what I can not even speak to be those of which I sometimes can not write. Perhaps I will never be able to write of them, and perhaps I will never be able to speak them aloud. Again the hardest part...is no longer being able to relive such amazing memories. They have to be shut up, placed on a mental shelf, only to collect dust never to be retold.
I find that when I am able to laugh with friends about good memories, or cry with them about the bad, I find solace, strength, and a sense of community. But when I can't talk about them...when I stand facing the one with whom the memories exists, hoping beyond hope they forgive me in that perhaps I have done a great disservice to the world, that I will find some modicum of personal acceptance knowing that to earn their forgiveness because of my silence would be too much to ask.
Not all unspeakable memories are painful, and not always keeping memories sacred and silent is a bad thing, but those that are for what ever reason carry the lives of two souls bound up in them. The best thing is to think that each individual is strong enough to bear the weight of the silence alone, and forgiving enough to recognize the necessity of the other to carry it without support.
Sometimes I wonder if I were to stand before my old best friend and look at her re4membering the stories we used to tell each other. You know...the ones that only the most sacred of people share, or what if I were to stand in front of my ex with that knowing look that says, "Yes, I used to love you with everything that I have," knowing that in that moment we no longer share that same type of love. It is these unspeakable memories that break my heart, and yet in a sense build moments that last a lifetime.
The most damaging part of these kinds of memories is the idea that in the midst of the crowd of people while you stand apart from the person you share this memory with, you make a subtle eye contact wondering on some level if the memory your see flash before your eyes is the one that is playing like a movie in theirs. But what if they are able to move past those memories much easier than we are? This also breaks my heart. I always imagined that I was the one who hurt more in the breaking of a relationship (not strictly speaking a love relationship.) That perhaps, I was the one who could only experience all the damaging pain that happened, and the other person escaped unscathed. How selfish!
I don't know at what point a relationship moves from times of making memories to the times that we are no longer able to speak about them, but in that state of flux we find ourselves. I truly believe that the love, care, and concern we have for one another is what builds any relationship. These unspeakable memories can be the tie that binds that love and care and concern of ours to the whole realm of humanity. How so? Because we transcend ourselves in the process of no longer being able to speak of what we experienced with another soul.
I find the memories of what I can not even speak to be those of which I sometimes can not write. Perhaps I will never be able to write of them, and perhaps I will never be able to speak them aloud. Again the hardest part...is no longer being able to relive such amazing memories. They have to be shut up, placed on a mental shelf, only to collect dust never to be retold.
I find that when I am able to laugh with friends about good memories, or cry with them about the bad, I find solace, strength, and a sense of community. But when I can't talk about them...when I stand facing the one with whom the memories exists, hoping beyond hope they forgive me in that perhaps I have done a great disservice to the world, that I will find some modicum of personal acceptance knowing that to earn their forgiveness because of my silence would be too much to ask.
Not all unspeakable memories are painful, and not always keeping memories sacred and silent is a bad thing, but those that are for what ever reason carry the lives of two souls bound up in them. The best thing is to think that each individual is strong enough to bear the weight of the silence alone, and forgiving enough to recognize the necessity of the other to carry it without support.
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