Now that I think about it, we don't do anything to formally memorialize my father-in-law.  Instead we lovingly reminisce from time to time, especially when our daughter does something that reminds us of him.  I get such a kick when I see her make a face he made or show some spark of his personality.  It's a nice feeling to have those things around to remind us how much we love him and miss him.

Now that I think about it, we don't do anything to formally memorialize my father-in-law.  Instead we lovingly reminisce from time to time, especially when our daughter does something that reminds us of him.  I get such a kick when I see her make a face he made or show some spark of his personality.  It's a nice feeling to have those things around to remind us how much we love him and miss him.

 My sister suggested we all get the same tattoo of  Mom's favorite flowers. A permanent memorial is a nice idea but that was way too permanent for the rest of us. Still thinking of an alternative--

 My sister suggested we all get the same tattoo of  Mom's favorite flowers. A permanent memorial is a nice idea but that was way too permanent for the rest of us. Still thinking of an alternative--

My sister used a tattoo to memorialize our father - a picture of his guitar on her back.

My son resembles him very much, so that's the one I have. :)

My sister used a tattoo to memorialize our father - a picture of his guitar on her back.

My son resembles him very much, so that's the one I have. :)

I have a special aunt that my children barely got to meet and I want them to know her.

She had such a tight group of friends. Her kitchen table looms large in my memories. I can see it today: full of article clippings, a small plate of something delicious, half drunk coffee or water or wine glasses (depending on the time of day), but, most of all, with a warm blanket of conversation covering it.

I don't have one way of remembering her. She just occurs to me when I'm reading a recipe or finding napkins right for the meal/season/event.

My kids know her as the person who makes me cry.

I have a special aunt that my children barely got to meet and I want them to know her.

She had such a tight group of friends. Her kitchen table looms large in my memories. I can see it today: full of article clippings, a small plate of something delicious, half drunk coffee or water or wine glasses (depending on the time of day), but, most of all, with a warm blanket of conversation covering it.

I don't have one way of remembering her. She just occurs to me when I'm reading a recipe or finding napkins right for the meal/season/event.

My kids know her as the person who makes me cry.

aww, makes you cry! But it's a good memory, right?

Modeling remembrance and grief is a really important part of raising kids. My children ask and are free TO ask anything about their late relatives and we share whatever we can.

aww, makes you cry! But it's a good memory, right?

Modeling remembrance and grief is a really important part of raising kids. My children ask and are free TO ask anything about their late relatives and we share whatever we can.

Even though my father had been ill for years, his death caught me by surprise. It came too soon, before I had the wisdom and courage to repair the damage to our relationship. You know what I mean, there was a long-term relationship problem that started ... well, I could barely remember when or why. Once it was too late to fix, of course, I was very sad that I had allowed the problem to continue.

I lived with my family in the “silicon valley” area south of San Francisco. Two years after my father’s death, a small article in the local newspaper caught my attention. The article described a fund-raising program by a non-profit called Sempervirens Fund, an organization dedicated to the preservation of redwood forest lands. A donor could choose to have a redwood tree planted in honor of a loved one or, alternately, could dedicate an old-growth redwood tree as a memorial. The funds collected by Sempervirens would be used to purchase additional redwood forest and wildlands in Santa Cruz Mountain parks. I chose to dedicate an old-growth redwood as a memorial to my father. With the help of a Sempervirens member, I wandered through the park one day and selected my Dad’s tree. My mother was thrilled with the idea. From time to time we visited “Dad’s tree,” which has Dad’s name on a small plaque in the ground near the tree’s base. Mom told me that she would like to be remembered in the same manner after her death. We honored Mom’s request just a few years ago.

The old plaque near Dad’s tree, after nearly 25 years of weathering, was recently replaced with a new one. I have the old plaque at home. My wife chose to honor her parents in the same manner, with dedicated redwood trees in the Santa Cruz Mountains. The trees will be there for years to come and, due in part to the donations of people who choose to dedicate living memorials to their loved ones, the redwood forests will be there for our descendants to enjoy.

Even though my father had been ill for years, his death caught me by surprise. It came too soon, before I had the wisdom and courage to repair the damage to our relationship. You know what I mean, there was a long-term relationship problem that started ... well, I could barely remember when or why. Once it was too late to fix, of course, I was very sad that I had allowed the problem to continue.

I lived with my family in the “silicon valley” area south of San Francisco. Two years after my father’s death, a small article in the local newspaper caught my attention. The article described a fund-raising program by a non-profit called Sempervirens Fund, an organization dedicated to the preservation of redwood forest lands. A donor could choose to have a redwood tree planted in honor of a loved one or, alternately, could dedicate an old-growth redwood tree as a memorial. The funds collected by Sempervirens would be used to purchase additional redwood forest and wildlands in Santa Cruz Mountain parks. I chose to dedicate an old-growth redwood as a memorial to my father. With the help of a Sempervirens member, I wandered through the park one day and selected my Dad’s tree. My mother was thrilled with the idea. From time to time we visited “Dad’s tree,” which has Dad’s name on a small plaque in the ground near the tree’s base. Mom told me that she would like to be remembered in the same manner after her death. We honored Mom’s request just a few years ago.

The old plaque near Dad’s tree, after nearly 25 years of weathering, was recently replaced with a new one. I have the old plaque at home. My wife chose to honor her parents in the same manner, with dedicated redwood trees in the Santa Cruz Mountains. The trees will be there for years to come and, due in part to the donations of people who choose to dedicate living memorials to their loved ones, the redwood forests will be there for our descendants to enjoy.

Thats really beautiful!   I live very far from those redwoods, but everytime I come in their presense I'm just blown away.  What a great way to remember your Dad and Mom!

Thats really beautiful!   I live very far from those redwoods, but everytime I come in their presense I'm just blown away.  What a great way to remember your Dad and Mom!

Oh, I'm touched! That's a wonderful way to remember your father.

My sister went a bit more drastic and had a tattoo of my dad's guitar put on her lower back. :) I don't think I'll go quite that far, but instead I try to share his love of and talent with music with my kids and talk about my  memories of his playing.

Also, the first Christmas after he died, I gave all the families a Christmas ornament in the shape of either a guitar or a fiddle, and from the responses, I couldn't have given them anything better than my dad himself returning. :)

Oh, I'm touched! That's a wonderful way to remember your father.

My sister went a bit more drastic and had a tattoo of my dad's guitar put on her lower back. :) I don't think I'll go quite that far, but instead I try to share his love of and talent with music with my kids and talk about my  memories of his playing.

Also, the first Christmas after he died, I gave all the families a Christmas ornament in the shape of either a guitar or a fiddle, and from the responses, I couldn't have given them anything better than my dad himself returning. :)

"Family Heirlooms" - just coming up on the first anniversary of my mom's passing and I got to thinking about all the things in the house that came from her... and how they end up being these 'personal heirlooms' that no-one else would have even a clue about. All these kitchen things that mom sent me just weeks before she died - she made me sit with her and go through this catalogue circling all the things 'I liked'...  the set of glass bowls, the butter keeper,...  It was so silly at the time but now they all bring back warm memories.

"Family Heirlooms" - just coming up on the first anniversary of my mom's passing and I got to thinking about all the things in the house that came from her... and how they end up being these 'personal heirlooms' that no-one else would have even a clue about. All these kitchen things that mom sent me just weeks before she died - she made me sit with her and go through this catalogue circling all the things 'I liked'...  the set of glass bowls, the butter keeper,...  It was so silly at the time but now they all bring back warm memories.

That's lovely, Rebecca. Isn't it interesting what simple things can make a memory forever?

That's lovely, Rebecca. Isn't it interesting what simple things can make a memory forever?

That's so sweet, Rebecca!  I feel so strongly it's really not about "what" the item is.  What's important is that it's special to you.  I have a "Moo Cow" creamer that I will treasure forever...long after my parents are no longer with me.  I'm so happy for you that you've got these treasures from your mom.

That's so sweet, Rebecca!  I feel so strongly it's really not about "what" the item is.  What's important is that it's special to you.  I have a "Moo Cow" creamer that I will treasure forever...long after my parents are no longer with me.  I'm so happy for you that you've got these treasures from your mom.

Yes amazing how these little things warm the heart.  ...your  Moo Cow.... it makes me smile just thinking about it.  

Yes amazing how these little things warm the heart.  ...your  Moo Cow.... it makes me smile just thinking about it.  

You know what's funny about that Moo Cow creamer?  Probably about ten years ago, when I moved into my first apartment before I was married, I was at my mom and dad's house and she was going to throw it out.  Honestly, it's a plastic creamer with a silly cow's head as the spout.  When she told me I almost exclaimed, "you can't throw that out!  You've had it forever!"  She asked if I wanted it.  I couldn't resist.  And now it feels like something I will probably pass down to my girls, who are 4 and 3 now.    It's funny how that 35ish year old piece of plastic makes me so happy.

You know what's funny about that Moo Cow creamer?  Probably about ten years ago, when I moved into my first apartment before I was married, I was at my mom and dad's house and she was going to throw it out.  Honestly, it's a plastic creamer with a silly cow's head as the spout.  When she told me I almost exclaimed, "you can't throw that out!  You've had it forever!"  She asked if I wanted it.  I couldn't resist.  And now it feels like something I will probably pass down to my girls, who are 4 and 3 now.    It's funny how that 35ish year old piece of plastic makes me so happy.

You just reminded me of the plastic Bugs Bunny mugs I have in my cupboard. Molded face, and most of the paint is worn totally off.

But my sister and I used to drink out of these when we visited my grandmother, and now I have them, and my kids drink out of them. Funny what holds a memory, eh?

You just reminded me of the plastic Bugs Bunny mugs I have in my cupboard. Molded face, and most of the paint is worn totally off.

But my sister and I used to drink out of these when we visited my grandmother, and now I have them, and my kids drink out of them. Funny what holds a memory, eh?

In my child’s heart

were open spaces 

       reserved for oceans and mountains.

      I thought I had them all filled up.

Now our plane circles Mt. Rainier at sunset

and I see I can fill spaces 

       ‘til the last bitter second.

Shirla Edwards   4/4/07

In my child’s heart

were open spaces 

       reserved for oceans and mountains.

      I thought I had them all filled up.

Now our plane circles Mt. Rainier at sunset

and I see I can fill spaces 

       ‘til the last bitter second.

Shirla Edwards   4/4/07

Rebecca, that was beautiful.

Rebecca, that was beautiful.

I helped both my parents pass, as they each had long, painful and difficult passings.  They were married for 60 years and their love was never more evident in the last days as my father, being very ill himself would do everything in his power to go see her and sit by her side and cry.

At the exact moment of each of their deaths (3 months apart), I sit quietly and cry, as their deaths have affected me more than anything else (divorces, surgeries, other loved ones lost), and talk to them.  It is something I've only done twice since it has not been long since they passed.  But it's something I don't share with any other family members or friends.  It's my personal way to mark the time they left this world as I talked them through it and me living in a world without them.

I helped both my parents pass, as they each had long, painful and difficult passings.  They were married for 60 years and their love was never more evident in the last days as my father, being very ill himself would do everything in his power to go see her and sit by her side and cry.

At the exact moment of each of their deaths (3 months apart), I sit quietly and cry, as their deaths have affected me more than anything else (divorces, surgeries, other loved ones lost), and talk to them.  It is something I've only done twice since it has not been long since they passed.  But it's something I don't share with any other family members or friends.  It's my personal way to mark the time they left this world as I talked them through it and me living in a world without them.