There is a Rubbermaid bin sitting in the corner of my room. It is rather small considering what it holds but occupies so much of the room. I stare at it often for in this bin are some of Bill's things; all the things I could simply not dispose of. The weeks after Bill's death, I went through the house and had no hesitation, no wondering thought, everything went to either the garbage dump or to charity. Then came hesitation, and later, simply things I could not part with; most are insignificant to the unconnected heart. Each piece of paper he wrote on, each little gift I once gave him became physical proof of his existence.
My recollection of him as a real human being, of our lifetime together has been dulled by the many months of living without his physical presence. He continues to live with me in my heart but it is more the essence of him and the things in this bin are physical proof that he was really here. I dare not open the bin for it is proof that he is no longer physically here.
Although I have made great strides in being in the moment, living with hope, there are still dark moments brought on by thoughts of a future where my senses go unnourished. I do not know if I am ready yet to test my emotional strength and so I choose to live comfortably in the moment. For now this will do and the bin remains closed. I trust that there will come a time when I will know that it will be okay to open it, lifting each piece out and running my fingers over each piece of paper he once wrote on, each gift he held in his hand smiling at the thought I had put into it when I purchased the trinket. I trust there will come a time when I will know exactly what to do with these treasures that will become things again.
What a beautiful meditation, Ginette. I too have "treasures" of Gwen's that I could never part with. There has to be proof that she existed. From a tube of lipstick to a hand-made leather coat, they are all precious. I don't know if they will ever become things.
ReplyDelete