How do you forget the little details about someone who is no longer in your life? What do you do when their favorite songs run through your head, when you wake up on their birthday, or when you stumble upon a photo of the two of you together and cry? What do you do when the heartbreak decides that it’s stubborn, and will never leave?
I was asked about this by a close friend of mine, who recently experienced the terribly visceral feelings that a breakup brings. Following the split, she deleted/removed all photos she’d taken with her significant other, asked him to take back things he’d given her (a necklace, photographs, etc.), and deleted his number.
For her, this speeds up the process of forgetting those details and memories. It helps her to heal.
I’m not the same, and I never have been, for any type of relationship — romantic or otherwise. I never delete texts or photos. Not even with people I’m no longer in contact with. While I remove them from my plain sight, I keep all tangible memories associated with that person tucked away in a box in my room. I may or may not look inside it again (who knows), but I could never throw it away. To me, doing so would be like erasing a significant chapter in my life, pretending it never happened, or that a connection never existed. These chapters are essential to my history, and they help shape the kind of person I’m becoming. I try to process the ending of these chapters as best as I can because I cannot bear to delete them entirely.
So — inevitably — I remember a lot of those details. Favorites, birthdays, songs, clothes, little histories, annoyances, loves. I think a lot of writers do.
I know that it can be painful, at first, to carry these with you, or to come across a moment when you see something your friend loved and wish so desperately to share it with them. This is common for anyone who has dealt with loss of any kind. But I would suggest keeping them tucked away, in a little imaginary box in your head — just like with the tangible things.
Do not repress them from your memory. Simply let them rest in that box now, because they are stories and memories waiting for another day.
The truth is that you are made of stories, through and through. To live without them is the real tragedy.
There are reasons we can’t forget these details. We might be the only ones blessed enough to have heard a personal story, to be trusted with something so delicate and beautiful. Favorite songs and films will resurface again in someone new. You will recognize it when they say “I love this song,“ and your eyes will widen. And then you will be grateful to have kept that memory around. The first person may not be in your life anymore — but look — they have given you a gift. A new interaction, a new connection. You will not have remembered for nothing.
It is a beautiful thing to have a memory that is so vivid and transcendent. Honor it, write about it, allow yourself to process, and tell stories.