One of my greatest fears is that Dominic will be forgotten.
If I ever speak it out loud, people are quick to assure me that he will always be remembered. But I know it isn’t true–unless others allow me to tell my story.
Not the Reader’s Digest condensed version–but the full length director’s cut–the one that takes time to tell and time to hear.
Because the farther away I get from the last living memory of him, the harder it is to think of him in the present tense. And I know if that’s true for me, his mother, it must be doubly true for others.
We buy tickets to movies, purchase books and cruise the Internet gobbling up other people’s stories. Yet we often make it difficult for those we know to tell us theirs.
We jockey for attention at gatherings, or worse, give all our attention to electronic devices. We think we KNOW other people’s stories so we don’t want to bore ourselves with listening again.
The truth is, we know less than we think about the folks we rub shoulders with every day.
Invite others to tell their stories–not just the grieving, but the elderly, the quiet ones in the corner, or the neighbor you’ve only seen from across the way.
Take some cookies, put away your phone and just listen.
(And feel free to share in the comments section too–I’d love to know YOUR story…)