The Little Ways We Keep Someone’s Memory Alive

When we think about keeping someone's memory alive, we often picture something intentional. A memorial, a special tradition, or a gathering to remember someone who's died. Those things can be meaningful, but I've found that some of my favorite reminders of the people I love happen in much smaller, more ordinary ways.

For me, it might be hearing Frank Sinatra or Joni Mitchell, watching Practical Magic, drinking hot tea, or coming across something related to Jane Austen or Wales. Sometimes it's a familiar scent, like Sun-Ripened Raspberry, or someone's particularly dry sense of humor. All of these things remind me of my sister, my nana, and other family members and friends who've died. I don't necessarily go looking for these reminders. They just show up in everyday life, sometimes making me sad and other times making me smile.

It's Often the Smallest Things That Bring Someone to Mind

It's funny how certain things become so closely connected to a person. A song that means nothing in particular to someone else can bring back years of memories for you. The same goes for a movie, a familiar expression, or even a smell. These reminders are personal because they're connected to experiences and relationships that were uniquely yours.

I notice this most often with humor. I'll hear something I know my sister would've found hilarious, and I can practically imagine her reaction. It makes me laugh, but there's also that immediate realization that I can't call her and share it with her. That feeling still catches me every time. A memory can be funny and painful at the same time, and I've learned that I don't need to make sense of every emotion that comes up. Sometimes I just enjoy the memory, even if it makes me miss her.

The Ways People Become Part of Who We Are

I've realized how much the people we love influence our interests, habits, and the things we value. Sometimes we carry those influences with us for so long that we don't even think about where they came from. For me, that includes rereading classic literature, appreciating dry humor, making time for imagination and writing, practicing empathy, and putting thought into the gifts I give. Even having a cat feels connected to the people who've been important in my life.

Most of these weren't habits I picked up after someone died. They were already part of my life because of those relationships, but I appreciate the connections more now. Maybe you still make a recipe the way your grandmother taught you, listen to music because of a parent, or use an expression you picked up from a friend. They're small reminders of how much we learn from one another without realizing it.

Keep Telling Their Stories

If there's one thing I feel strongly about, it's the importance of sharing stories about the people who've died. I talk about my sister and my nana often with my daughters because I want them to know who these women were, beyond their names and how they're related to our family. I want them to know what made them laugh, what they loved, and the little things that made them themselves.

I'm especially interested in sharing the stories that only I know. The inside jokes, funny conversations, and experiences that happened when it was just the two of us. Those memories are easy to take for granted while someone is alive, but afterward, you realize you might be the only person who remembers certain things. I don't want those stories to disappear with me, and I want my daughters to understand why certain movies, songs, or books mean something to our family.

We don't have to save these stories for anniversaries or family gatherings. They can come up over dinner, during a car ride, or because something funny reminded us of someone. We can write them down, share photographs with the stories behind them, or pass along favorite recipes and traditions. Sometimes the ordinary stories tell us the most about who someone really was.

Finding Comfort in Unexpected Reminders

I believe my sister is still around in some way, and that belief influences how I experience certain reminders of her. Sometimes something happens that makes me feel connected to her, even if I can't explain why. I find comfort in those moments, although I know everyone has different beliefs about what happens after death. Some people find comfort in religion or spirituality, while others feel connected through memories, traditions, or the influence someone continues to have on their life.

Not every reminder has to mean something bigger, either. Sometimes a song is simply a song you both loved, or a familiar scent brings back a memory you hadn't thought about in years. There are also times when a reminder feels comforting and others when it's too painful. You don't have to embrace every memory or turn it into a meaningful moment, especially when grief makes certain things difficult to revisit.

Remembering Doesn't Have to Be Complicated

I don't think keeping someone's memory alive should feel like another responsibility that comes with grief. You don't have to create traditions, celebrate every anniversary, or find a special way to honor someone to prove how much they mattered. Some people appreciate those rituals, while others prefer quieter, more spontaneous ways of remembering. For me, much of it happens naturally through the things I enjoy and the conversations I have with my daughters.

More than anything, I want to keep their stories going. I want the people who come after me to know more than names, dates, and photographs. I want them to know the personalities, humor, kindness, and wonderfully specific things that made these people who they were. That includes the funny stories, inside jokes, habits that drove us crazy, and experiences we shared that nobody else knows about. Those are the details that make someone feel real to people who weren't there, and they're worth passing along.