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Memories Emerging

As my numbness has decreased and overt episodes of grieving, as well, my mind has been traveling back in time.

I figuratively think of the brain with a trap door at the bottom of it. The brain has shelves within it with events stacked on them.

It seems to happen more with aging, but also as the emotional self becomes strong enough to handle past events — the trap door opens a little.

Memories come tumbling down, memories that had long been shelved. No use by date on these packages. They were tucked away, not visible.

Some are of hurtful occurrences, too painful to deal with at the time, or with the coping skills and/ or support system lacking at that point in time. A lot of these memories that come tumbling out desperately need professional assistance to deal with and resolve (according to my past psychologist friend).

Some of the memories are just events triggered, perhaps by a current event.

A book I just finished reading fished out one such memory.

We (my past spouse and I) had become friends with new people. We met for lunches and dinners, talked about events in our lives, about business.

The new friends had recently been showing a lot of money with clothes, a car and a new house. Business for them was booming. Good for them. It was a great thing to see for two younger people.

One of them asked my spouse, who was the business person of the two of us, to take a look at their business books and see if there were any suggestions or tips for better organization.

My spouse was a business whiz, who had set up a business plan with safeguard systems to ensure accuracy and reliability. Money and product were well documented. Accounting rules were strictly followed.

An agreement was made to help our new friend, if possible, and we met at their home.

After pleasantries, the business ones went off to peruse the books.

After about 15 minutes, my spouse came out and said “let’s go.” Not another word.

After being tight lipped for weeks, I finally was told that our new friend was running two sets of books, skimming their own company for cash to avoid paying taxes.

This was no wavy line for my spouse. Truth telling and adamancy about finances were the standards, and adhered to at all times. Every penny had to be accounted for and dealt with in a business-like fashion. Taxes are to be paid according to the White Man rules (the honest White man).

That didn’t mean the best deal in purchasing wasn’t scouted out, or thousands of copies coached out of the copy machine, which was screaming for a service call.

There was certainty our new friend(s) would eventually be found out, prosecuted and potentially even spend time in prison. My spouse wanted absolutely no association between us and could foresee being called as a witness, even being charged as an accomplice.

We saw no more of our new friends.

We did hear there had been bad times. One was an investment made without adequate research that wiped out their finances. Two, one of them had fallen over a cliff, was seriously injured, and left with physical disability.

Retribution? Who knows?

I felt sympathy for them, but not enough to renew friendship. Some friendships can take you down along with their sinking.

Let me know how you are doing. I care.

Contemplation: How true is the adage “what goes around comes around?”


Lynn Brooke

© 2024 Our New Chances

Photo Credit: © 2024 Rachel Gareau


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