Six Years On

As some of you may know, today marks six years since Debbie died. I wouldn't say that I have felt particularly sad today, just distracted and finding it a little hard to focus on tasks and preparation. Essentially, I have been in a slightly exaggerated version of my usual state!

I nearly put "my first wife, Debbie" in that first sentence, which illustrates the issue I have been thinking about a little bit today. When Debbie died, I was the rector of a church in Morecambe, and in the following two years, I was surrounded by people who had known Debbie, and had experienced her care, wisdom, leading worship, read her writing, laughed along with her, had  fun with Crib Services, Messy Church and more. I could talk about her to the people around me, knowing that we had those common experiences.

Debbie at her ordination as a priest 11 June 1994

A few months after moving to Beverley, I was at a meeting in York with a colleague who had known us both when we were in Nottingham. In a break, I joked with him about what Debs would have made of something that had occurred, he laughed, and I had a sudden realisation that if anyone else in the room was listening, they would have had no idea who I was talking about. On the way home, it further dawned on me that in my day-to-day routine, I met no-one who had ever met her - and that felt very strange. It also made my encounters with those who did remember even more special.

The consequence of that is that in most circumstances I now encounter, whenever I refer to quite a large period of my life, there needs to be some telling of the story, and some explanation of who Debbie is. Sometimes it is necessary to clarify that, in order to explain a situation properly. For example, I have two mothers-in-law! 

In fact, this happens for everyone to some extent. As time goes on, the community we are surrounded by changes, and fewer people remember who and what was there before, including loved ones who have died. Perhaps it is more acute in situations like mine where I have both moved and married again (especially if the new location is one where there are few connections). 

I am sure that is why, for some people, regular acts of remembrance are so important – to keep memories alive and recollections fresh of a loved one lost. For some people that is about regularly tending graves, annually placing tributes in the memorial column of a local paper, or perhaps a Facebook post. I have Debbie’s writings, her blog and her Facebook profile being available so I can ‘hear’ her voice, as well as a wealth of photographs and some video footage.

In other eras, you would need a very different approach to keep that sort of memory fresh in people’s minds. Perhaps that’s why the touch, smell and taste of bread and wine are part of communion - the central act of remembrance for Christians, which we think of especially tomorrow, Maundy Thursday.