I told him I would. I told him I would keep his memory alive, that I would keep him with us. It meant so much to him as we talked about this in his final days. He didn’t want to be forgotten. I didn’t want anyone to forget.

But I’m not exactly sure how to do that now.

In the first days, we talked about Bill often. We told the stories he told, imitated him, laughed at his quirkies, and reminded each other of his velcro attachment to us. I said prayers like he said them. I caught the littlebears eating Grandpa’s green MnMs. In the name of Bill, I asked what was for lunch and dinner.

Some time has passed, not much, but even this much has left a bit of Bill behind. No one mentions his name much. Remembers him much. Are they reluctant? Or does the present carry them into so much future that the past is too much to carry as well? Have they forgotten? Please don’t forget Bill so much.

Like a book put back on the library shelf, the story was so so good. What was it about again?

As for me, I do my best to talk about our Bill, but not over talk him so as to lopside conversations or to restrain us from life without him. Finding perfect moments to spark Billisms , to keep him with us, I grope for balance.

I could talk about Bill all afternoon and evening. And again tomorrow. I wish family and friends would ask, would recall. I fancy spending whole hours reminiscing. I want more of him to be part of us. I want to do what I said I’d do, to keep his memory alive. But time will have its way. It’s OK, Kath.