There Are Still Boxes Left to Unpack

Posted on | October 28, 2011 | 2 Comments

I spent the better part of my evening searching through boxes for a pair of shoes.

It’s amazing to me how much of his stuff is still here; so many odds and ends, so many keepsakes and trinkets.  There are boxes here that when I open them, he pours out of every corner like an uncontrollable sob of scent and memory.  In one box, I found photographs; in another, I found a wooden lute.  And in one box, pushed to the farthest corner of my closet, I found the dried boutonniere he wore when he became my husband.  It was cradled between the boxes that held our rings, saved for the purpose of remembering by a woman who thought she’d always want to remember.

I am not that woman any more.

My finger trailed the curve of the dried flower, still wrapped in the soft green florist tape and still whispering the softest song of how I must have felt when I saw it last.

I am always surprised by the intensity of memories.

I am always floored by the depth of emotion in the smallest scrap of paper or the softest dried rose.

I am always amazed that there are still more tears to cry.

I knew the right thing to do was to empty the box.  I knew the right move was to throw away the silly dried reminder and the tall ring boxes.  I knew the proper course was to purge and destroy and eliminate the future day when a future me would again stumble across this peculiar collection of heartbreak keepsakes.

But instead, I tucked them all back into their places along side the brown satin ribbons and monogrammed programs.  I closed the box and sealed it with the quietest of tears.  The silver shoes were not there.  I couldn’t find them anywhere.  On tip toe, I placed the box of my heartache back in the farthest corner of my closet and I closed the door.

Some things are better left for a stronger me to conquer.

Comments

2 Responses to “There Are Still Boxes Left to Unpack”

  1. Etharding
    October 29th, 2011 @ 3:59 pm

    Please, please write a book. You writing is breathtaking – you don’t just describe your pain, but you write in such a way that it’s palpable to any who read it.

    And as for the pain itself… my heart goes out to you. You handle it with such grace

  2. Abigail
    October 30th, 2011 @ 2:08 am

    I agreed with you every step of the way. Knowing the right thing is to remove them and also knowing the day has not yet come. Remarkable writing, as always.

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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
    Based on a work at http://www.law-momma.com.
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