Keep The Memory, Not The Stuff
Tonight is a particularly difficult one. I can’t seem to stop crying – really crying. Although I often shed tears over the
situation with Gram, I don’t often sob.
Tonight I’m sobbing.
Every memory of Christmas that I have – from my earliest to last
year - has involved Gram in some way. Whether
it was her dressing up as Santa when we were kids and handing out gifts or her
cooking her amazing Christmas turkey dinner, she’s always been there. Cookie baking, tree hunting, decorating, (the
dreaded) Christmas shopping, going the Christmas Eve service at St. Catherine’s
to listen to the guy play the guitar that she always liked so much, are just
some of the Christmas memories I have.
That someday became today as I decided to open those boxes. I opened them delicately, as if I had never
seen them before and tentatively, knowing how it was likely to affect me. In them I found all sorts of things from Gram’s
house wrapped in newspaper and packed in the exact order of how I frantically proceeded
through the house room by room as I packed back then. I moved frantically then because I knew if I
slowed enough to think about the magnitude of what I was doing, I would have
broken down emotionally and not been able to complete the task at hand. Each box that I looked in today was packed
from a specific room and area. And I
remembered exactly where every item was back then when I picked it up to pack
it. For example, one box contained items
from a specific section of Gram’s kitchen counter - candy dish, can opener, etc. As I unwrapped each item, I pictured, in my
memory, what things looked like back then and for years before.
The memories came flooding back - 42 years of memories of Gram and her
house and all of the holidays, birthdays, picnics, Steeler Sundays, or just
quiet evenings that I spent there. Most
of my life was spent at that house! At
that moment, I realized the magnitude of what happened 5 years ago.
And so I sobbed. Then
I went to visit Gram. She was asleep,
but I just sat quietly with her. I get
strength from her; I always have – just being in her presence. How ironic it is that the strength I get from
her helps me to deal with her own circumstances.
I returned home and sobbed again.
I sobbed through a whole bag of Hershey’s Kisses.
Tonight I am left with the knowledge that I can’t hold on to
things – that memories are not attached to the items in those boxes. Rather, my memories of Gram and my
relationship with her go far beyond any “stuff.” As difficult as it is, I know that I will
need to let go of the “stuff.” I will,
however, always hang on to the memories.
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