Ti Amo

Forgetting is not always dreadful.  Because when unexpected events evoke hidden memories, they emerge pristine, clear and honest.  That’s what happened recently.  A distant relative, whom I have never had the pleasure of meeting, dug into family history via Ancestry.com.  As a result, pictures of earlier generations began to pop up on the internet of other times, other places and long ago days.

As the first nebulous connection became stronger, I was asked to contribute some pictures.  Hidden in the depths of our basement, I retrieved two shoe boxes filled with snapshots.  One recent icy afternoon, I brought them up to my desk, and for several hours drifted back in time.  One of my nieces asked, “Who are all these people?  And why didn’t I ever know them?”

Certainly a valid question, and there are several equally valid answers.  Time, distance and sometimes just life, itself, separates people.  However, a misplaced word, a misinterpreted glance, or perhaps a minute financial disagreement can also cause a breach in families. Often those actually involved don’t even accurately recall what occurred.

More than half a century after that final memorable summer we all spent together, it no longer matters what caused the family fissure.  The sad reality is despite whatever motivated the rupture between two brothers and their families, it never healed.  Cousins never spoke to each other again, and the joys and sorrows of life never again shard.

We were not a clan to celebrate Valentine’s Day either with candy or cards.  What we never forgot to do, however, was say “I love you,” whenever our paths would part.  I learned this as a child and have done it all my life.  And each time I say it, I mean it.

When the schism erupted, there was never a goodbye, just a deep division of silence uninterrupted by waves of contact or fog of reconciliation.  Two brothers never spoke again.

As I went through the piles of snapshots from my childhood, so many made me recall chapters of my own life after marriage.  The pictures evoked memories of time, places and events, and more importantly, those no longer sharing my small world.  I don’t recall any harsh words, any anger that caused fractures in our relationship, but I do know that I will ever remember the blessings of time spent together.  While I also wish the splintered relationship that divided a family a generation ago never happened, I always believed those involved that unforgettable afternoon were always remorseful.  A caustic remark, perhaps a withering glance, whatever it was, had dire consequences for generations to come.

So in lie of flowers, candy, or even cards, on this Valentine’s Day, I would like to send a message to all who have ever crossed my path, at times held my hand and were part of my life’s journey, and whose road may have led them in different directions.  Ti Amo!  As the song goes, “For the Good Times.”