Kimberlee K.

I was listening to the Modern Love podcast the other day and writer Samantha Joseph read her essay, “I Had to Stop Asking Why” that was previously published in the column.

It is a beautiful piece that touches on suicide and the questions that family and friends are left with in the aftermath, and there is an unexpected cameo by David Schwimmer (famously Ross from Friends).

Samantha’s aunt (who tragically committed suicide) worked with the cast of Friends, and some years after her death, Samantha was able to meet David Schwimmer. She brought up her aunt, unsure if he would remember her, but he instantly did.

“Thank you for giving me the chance to think about her,” he said.

The words have stuck with me ever since I finished the episode.

I am someone who constantly writes from memory and I believe it’s one of my greatest strengths. Sometimes I get rushes of sensory details of a place and I feel like I have to write them down, both so I don’t forget and so I can accurately write about the place and the memories I have there.

I can also get random rushes of memories during the simplest conversations. My train of thought races back and forth in my mind, a pinball pinging different buttons and activating different memories. Sometimes I share them, sometimes I don’t.

Oftentimes I’ll stay away from the sad memories. Or those that include people I’ve lost or no longer have in my life. It feels like it’s opening a door to either the pain that exists in their absence, or the questions that remain unanswered.

But this story from Samantha was a nice reminder that we already do a lot of unconscious protecting of our minds. We block painful memories out without even trying. We get lost in the chaos of the present with ease. And sometimes it’s nice to unlock a door to a memory long forgotten—even if pain exists alongside it.

Sometimes all we need is an invitation to think about something or someone good. And it’s nice to soak in all the details of that memory for a little while. To remember the good parts, the good people, the good moments that might be blotted out, blurred, or locked away with or behind the bad ones.

Sharing a memory can be a gift. It can be that invitation for someone else.

So when that pinball pings, don’t be afraid to say, remember when…