Twenty Six years In a Box?

 Have you ever thought about what you do with someone's things after they die? No, unless you have lost someone like a father, mother, wife or child, you have never had to decide or make those decisions.  When my Dad died it was a few years before my mother decided to sell the home she actually grew up in.  After 50 years of marriage and after having lived in our home since the time she was 19, we had to help her go through 50 years of keepsakes, old Christmas decorations, tons of cooking pans, dishes.  We had to decide what to keep, what to throw away and what to donate.  Fifty years and you have just a week or more to decide.

When we came home after Em passed, we brought her bag of belongings she had taken with her on her trip. We also brought home things from the hospital.  Where do you begin to decide what to do with those things?  How do you begin?  For months her bags lay in our bedroom in the same place I dropped them when I came in.  I couldn't bring myself to move them for months.  

When you lose a child, you begin to read.  Read anything and everything about how to recover, knowing that you can never recover.  I had several friends and family that sent me books that people had written after losing a child.  The first one I read pretty quickly, within the first month. I believed it would help me.  However, after reading it, I never wanted to read another book like that again.  My reaction to the lost of Em was much different that this author.  I would never say, that how this author felt was wrong!!  After going through it, there is NO RIGHT WAY OR WRONG WAY!!  Grief is truly something that no one should ever try to define.  It is undefinable.  And mothers and fathers definitely grieved differently.

Her bags probably stayed there for 6 months or longer.  I finally moved it to my closet where is stayed for another 6 months.  In March I started the hard task of going through her closet.  Em wasn’t the best room keeper.  She was much more of a pack rat.  So many memories is such a small space.  Two prom dresses, one wedding dress, many pocket books and bags.  Books from school, dolls she got for Christmas, school annuals, old letters, many many pictures and colorings she and her friends had done over the years.  It wasn’t easy but it brought back many wonderful memories.

Unfortunately this was a task that I had to do alone.  No one other than myself has been in her room since she died.  I have been in there many times.  Many nights I sleep in her bed and cry myself to sleep.  Some how I feel closer to her.  Last week I had to work nights and Cam was staying with Don.  I slept in Em’s room because it was quiet.  I had the ceiling fan, a box fan and her air conditioner on.  At one point I was arousing from my sleep.  The air conditioner and fan were at my back.  I felt a brief of cold air blow across my face.  Knowing that it could not have been the fan or air conditioner, I believe it was Em.

Since I’ve been home, Don and I have been cleaning out a lot of junk and old things we no longer need.  I came across a box of things Don had removed out of the silver Camry that Em had driven.  I went through it.  You know you can’t keep every little thing as much as you want too.  But it’s hard to decide.  How do you decide?  At that moment I was going on emotion.  That’s all I have left.

Her room is clean now with clean bedding and her fuzzy comforter she loved.  I hung most of her pictures and paintings back up.  I guess it will forever now be my quiet place.  My place where I can be close to her.

The past year has been hard, but much harder for me than many know.  I had to be the one to go through her medical record to find out all the details I was never told.  That was hard for me.  And working in the hospital there is something that triggers PTSD and flashbacks to that day.  You hear when codes are called and sometimes you have to participate.  That’s hard because all I can think of is Em having had to go through the same.  Review lab results knowing what is means for the paitent.  There are many days I just want to walk away.  Sometimes as healthcare workers we get immune to death and can say things that are inconsiderate and careless.  But we all need to be aware that we are talking about someone’s loved one.

It crushes my soul to even think that that could have been said about Em.

I would like to ask for prayer over the next couple of months.  There is a trial that I will have to go through and some other decisions that I am waiting to hear the outcome.

One thing that I have learned through all of this is that life truly isn’t fair and there is nothing you can do about it.  You have no control.

Even though Don and I support each other, there are some paths I have to travel alone.  Yes many people have offered to talk.  But it’s really impossible to pour your soul out if you haven’t walked in my shoes.

I am thankful to all those who have offered and to those that do listen.  Most of the time when you talk, we just want someone to listen.  We also want to remember Em and we want everyone to remember.  Forgetting is frightening to me.