One From the Heart

Let’s step out from the darkness for just a moment and take a walk into the light. I want you to think of a sweet memory of your child from back in the day—one from the heart, a memory that makes you smile.

I know there’s a good chance you’re not ready to take in any type of happiness just yet. In fact, you may not be ready to do much of anything about your grief early on, which is common and understandable. If this sounds like you, maybe skip this story for now and return to it a little later, because I can guarantee your feelings will change.

I also realize this moment of bliss is now a double-edged sword that can also slice you open, but it’s important to focus on the good times we had with our children, even if it doesn’t always feel so good. We need to keep these happy memories alive.

I was about to suggest you start with a sort of time travel, but as I began to type those words, it took me back to a few weeks after Rob was born, so I guess I’ll go first. We had this great party in our apartment in Forest Hills, New York, and invited all of our friends and family to help us celebrate his arrival. We sent out invitations that said, “You are invited to the debut performance of Robbie James Carlat in It’s a Wonderful Life.” And on that day, it certainly was.

I remember only bits and pieces, but every memory makes me smile. I was floating from person to person, hugging and kissing everyone, introducing friends to my other friends, and ushering people into our bedroom to meet the little man of the hour, who was in Caryn’s arms, wrapped tightly in a tie-dyed blankie, absolutely clueless about the festivities in his honor. Except for the days that he and Zach were born, I can’t remember ever being happier in my life.

Maybe you were lucky enough to have so many idyllic memories and happy days with your child that it’s difficult to pick just one, or maybe you’re more like me and had them few and far between. Whatever your circumstance, here are a few gentle reminders and some ways to best keep your children in your heart.

Remember one of their first birthdays when you had to help blow out the candles? Picture their angelic, smiling face, close your eyes, and softly blow one out for them right now.

Remember teaching them to ride a bike and how terrified you both were to let go until the moment that you did, and they started to ride all by themselves, and you were both relieved and ecstatic? Hop on your bike this weekend and bring your child along for the ride.

Remember building a sandcastle at the beach and asking them to fill up a pail with water, and by the time they carried it back to you, there was hardly any water left in the pail, so you decided to hunt for cool shells and shiny rocks instead, and after a few more minutes, you both ran into the ocean and immediately got pummeled by a wave? Take a walk on the beach and hunt for shiny rocks. When you find a good one, bring it home and place it where you can see it every day.

Remember taking your child to their first baseball game, when you had great box seats because a friend had season tickets, and your kid brought along their glove hoping to catch a foul ball, and they didn’t care that it didn’t happen because they ate five or six hot dogs on that steamy July afternoon, and you both had a great time even though you left in the fifth inning because you both thought the game itself was boring, and on the way out of the stadium you bought a hot pretzel for the long car ride home? Go to a baseball game (let’s go Mets!), buy yourself a cold beer, pour one out for your homie, and then leave in the fifth inning because the game will be boring.

Remember going to Disney World with your child, waiting in long lines to go on all of the classic rides and finishing the day at Splash Mountain, sitting in the front of the log flume together as you drifted in the dark river wending its way up to the top of the hill, and you were both a little creeped out by the animatronic characters and you were both a little scared to take the plunge, so you held hands when it was your turn at the top, and you both screamed and laughed and screamed some more when the log began to drop, and they snapped a photo of the two of you, and you were the one with your eyes closed? Find that photo in the old shoebox in the back of your closet, close your eyes, and let out a small scream.

Remember playing hide-and-seek, pretending you couldn’t see them under the bed or behind a curtain or in the back of a closet and stomping around and stage-whispering something like, “I wonder where Robbie is? I wonder where he could be?” Then you’d look under the bed or pull back the curtain or open the closet door and shout, “There he is!” and you’d both crack up, and it was your turn to hide? Open a hall closet and quietly say, “There he is!”

Remember when your child danced around maniacally in the living room to one of your favorite songs (in our house it was “Wonderwall” by Oasis and R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It . . . And I Feel Fine”)? Maybe you had a puppy who joined in the merriment, and you started to dance along with them, and you were both giggling because it was so much fun crazy-dancing together? Blast your favorite song and dance like no one’s watching, although you know your special someone is.

Remember watching a movie together that you both loved (it was Monty Python and the Holy Grail for me and Rob, but I’m guessing that’s not a universal choice), making Jiffy Pop, plopping down on the couch in the den, and reciting your favorite lines from the movie? Then they’d want to watch it again, so you rewound the VHS tape and about fifteen minutes in (right after the Black Knight says the immortal line, “It’s just a flesh wound!”), they’d fall asleep in your arms, and have you ever seen a more beautiful child in your entire life? Whatever that movie was for you, find it on your favorite streaming service and watch it until you fall asleep.

Remember reading them a bedtime story, and how delicious their head smelled right after coming out of the bath, and how they were wearing their G.I. Joe pajamas and wouldn’t let you leave their room until you read one more book, Daddy, please? Pick up Goodnight Moonor Harold and the Purple Crayon or whatever book your child loved best and read it out loud every night for a week, and just before you nod out, remember to say good night to your child. “Good night, Rob,” I’ve whispered every night since he died.

Remember the last time they gave you a big hug—one of those embraces that feels like your hearts are touching—and then said, “I love you”? Hold on tight to that memory and never let it go.

Larry Carlat is the author of A Space in the Heart: A Survival Guide for Grieving Parents.