Not a Trace
The grieving process is not an easy subject matter to tackle. What’s good for one isn’t necessarily good for another. With the recent passing of my precious Dad, my Mom had been anxious to clean out his things in order for her healing process to begin.
His children, on the other hand, felt the opposite. We wanted to keep his possessions just as they were, without disturbing a thing……..a little longer. Perhaps we thought if his things remained, he wasn’t really gone.
My brother held her at bay for a couple months, but with my sister home for a visit, Mom decided it needed to be done before she left. I must admit I feared the day, and was sad and very anxious at the thought of removing all his belongings.
Our time together started with sharing a meal, as most of us avoided the obvious task ahead. We made light conversation and talked about random events. I’m not sure who finally determined our meal was over and we needed to get started.
As we sorted, folded, counted, and bagged, the room started to empty. We each had our own little section of the room to deposit any items we wanted personally. My treasures accumulated in his red leather chair, tucked in the corner of the room. Each time I placed another item on the cushion, my heart ached for his big bear hugs, sense of humor and hearty laugh.
My brother and I seemed to take turns bursting into tears or erupting into laughter. At one point we came across two, 8×10 photos of me; one as a small child and one as a teenager. It made my heart melt that he treasured those pictures. My children also came across a wooden box that had been tucked in his drawer. It had hand-glued little blue and brown tiles on the indentation of the lid. As I held it in my hand, I immediately recognized the box. I had made it for him during 4-H camp one summer, many years ago, and tears streaked my cheeks.
As the day came to a close, it was decided his possessions would go a homeless shelter in a nearby city. My sister-in-law knew the shelter was in need and his belongings would benefit many people. As the bags and boxes were loaded one by one, we each felt our own sadness and grief.
My brother brought my Mom into his closet for the first time since the afternoon started, and her tears fell. I’m sure of her own sadness and grief and the many years they shared together. Even though it seemed as there was not a trace left, I’m thankful that her healing process has started. I, on the other hand, panicked once everything had been hauled away and I wasn’t able to gather any more of his treasures. I’ll need a little more time.
xoxox…..Sheryl