I have talked with parents who immediately rid themselves of the personal belongings of their deceased child, and some, who, years later, still cannot bring themselves to let go of the items. There seems to be no right or wrong way to do this, it's such a personal choice. As for us, we have all her Chicago items right in the same place in the basement, the spot where they were dropped off when her friends and their parents went to move things home. What a gift that was, we never had to re-enter the apartment and pack up the items, instead, this wonderful group travelled up and back, loaded and unloaded, and gave us the peace of mind that all things would be taken care of...I hope I sufficiently thanked them. I think I did, but as with many things during that first year or even two, I know I didn't adequately thank anyone for the kindnesses and generosity of their ways. Nevertheless, there lies the comforter, the pillows, the shams, the boxes, the bags, the books, the shoes, the clothes. Still. But bit by bit, I am able to pick through and decide what to do with each item. Some have been donated to Goodwill, some given to someone special, but most just sit there. The same with the items in her room. She and Jenny could mix and match clothes so often that it was hard to know what belonged to whom, so the things in the room, they still sit, too. But we know we must begin to make a dent. We must decide what to do with certain things. The time is right for us. So, we begin, and start and stop, and begin again. We make what seems a huge difference, only to find that the boxes and bags seem to multiply. And it is hard. It is painful and comforting all at the same time. We will take the infamous t-shirts and have quilts made, keeping her with us, wrapped in her bright life and smile, her love and her zest for life helping us to stay focused and live. We will wrap ourselves in her blankets and live for her, for ourselves and for those we meet. We will do it because she would want us to, but still, to give away the items that must be discarded, it's as if another door has closed, and we have hung a shingle that states, "she is not coming back". We know that, but as the bags pile up and the donations to charity or others less fortunate mount, my heart beats faster and a dark cloud hovers in my soul. She is gone from my grasp, no longer needing the "things" that have become too precious.
So, we pace and move in a direction that works for us. With each personal item, a part of her leaves this house, but with them, I am reminded of her very own words. In her final days, when this life was almost behind her, and she embarked on another, it was she who brought to my attention that "stuff" didn't matter. She told me, "I didn't really need all those things, all the t-shirts, all the jeans, all the shoes, and all the pajamas. I had what I needed all the time, just my family". That's what she entered this world with and that's how she left us, needing nothing, just her family and the love God taught us to know. To Allison, today, and everyday, I say, thank you for helping me get through this. And to God above, today, and everyday, I say, thank you for the blessings in my life, the love of family and friends so dear.
Maybe tomorrow I will find the strength to find my way through more possessions, more trinkets, more items, more personal "stuff", and maybe I will be able to do a little more.
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