The power of remembrance

Mercy Corps Founders Dan O'Neill (left) and Ells Culver stand among the tents at Mesa Grande refugee camp in El Salvador in the mid-1980s. Photo: Mercy Corps

Like millions of Americans, I watched the funeral of Senator Edward M. Kennedy over the weekend. And I was touched by all of the simple, yet powerful eulogies that poured forth from those who mourned yet celebrated his life — particularly President Barack Obama.

Those carefully considered, extraordinarily-delivered words made me think of an elegiac piece I’ve always admired, posted to this website four Augusts ago. It’s a heartfelt remembrance that I still believe is the best writing I’ve read during my many years working here.

On August 15, 2005, Mercy Corps Co-Founder Ells Culver passed away, leaving a legacy of friendship and lasting change around the world. Besides Ells’ family, there must have been few that felt the loss as much as Dan O’Neill, Mercy Corps’ Founder and Ells’ longtime friend.

And so early the morning of August 16, after receiving a phone call with the tragic news, Dan sat down and wrote Reflections on Life, Times and Travels with Ellsworth Culver, then traveled from his home near Seattle to be with his Mercy Corps family on a mournful summer day. I am still awestruck by one particular paragraph in Dan’s piece:

In the early days of our travels we shared cheap hotel rooms and late night talk about our kids and just how big the universe is. We shared bad water, cheap beers, boiled Bedouin coffee, tea from China and a host of remote village brews and concoctions. On a couple of occasions, our careless consumption of local food fare cramped our guts with crippling runs and we carried each other through airports and beat up taxis filled with the stench of a million cigarettes.

Many days, when I’m seeking inspiration for what I should write, I think about those words. That arresting visual of two men supporting each other as they sought to create something that would – quite literally – change the world. It makes me incredibly proud to work for Mercy Corps.

And then there’s this thought:

…we decided that some of the horrors we witnessed should not be discussed with others, but should remain our own personal nightmares, burning holes in our souls which would become the emotional "fuel" for our own radical commitment to the mission. Perhaps, we speculated, this is the redemptive use of suffering and emotional pain for a higher cause.

We all carry experiences, memories and hard-won truths that keep us going. Make us try harder. I had never before thought about “the redemptive use of suffering.” But now I feel it every day.

I carry around the stories of everyone I’ve met on my travels. Many make it onto this website, and my sincerest hope is the people who read those stories will at least remember them. But other stories remain within me, giving me the emotional fuel to try harder, write more persuasively and do right by those I've met around the world.

But a eulogy — doing right not only by the memory of the one who's passed on, but also the recollections and feelings of all those loved ones — is perhaps the hardest thing to write and deliver.

I gave eulogies for both of my grandmothers, writing down my memories just hours before speaking in front of family and friends. Both times, I struggled through my words and just hoped that those assembled could understand what I was saying through my tears. And both times, the love I felt immediately afterward — and joyful remembrance we continue to share — far exceeded anything I’d said.

Simple, powerful words help us remember those we’ve lost, and sometimes even change the lives of those who remain.