Death is such a strange thing, loved ones who have shared your life, suddenly gone. Yet all their things are left behind, their shoes, their hats, their voice on the answering machine, all the little life mementos that they saved in a shoebox, now meaningless. And the world spins on without them just like they never existed. I once heard it said that death was like pulling your hand out of water, you can't tell you were ever there, so true. And for those who do remember all those discarded things take on a new meaning. They become a last link to a loved one who has suddenly disappeared. All his insignificant possessions take on new celebrity because he touched them. As if we needed physical proof that he did indeed exist, or that we could somehow reach him by holding them. In moments of clarity I realize that all I really have left is my memory of him and what he taught me, which fortunately for me was a great deal.
3 comments:
this is so true Deann, I love how you described it so well. I still have a shoebox that holds some of my Mom's stuff from her purse.
Death is so hard, so sudden to deal with never seeing them again here on earth. It's kinda funny, in 1993 when Moma passed away I got her tiny little old pomeranian, TEDDY BEAR and loved him because it was the most prized companion of hers, several years later I finally had to put the little guy to sleep I cried my heart out. And now when my brother died in October, I got his most loved companion, CHIQUITA the tea-cup size chihuahua. Getting these sweet furbabies is ALMOST like having them here. Thank you Deann for letting me share this.
I hope you are feeling still okay, so many cherished memories and the hurt is always there.
hugzzzzzzzzzzzz sweetie....
hope your dear Moma is doing well too.
I really LOVED that photo of her and all the granddaughters - priceless !
“Weeping willow with your tears running down, why do you always weep and frown? Is it because he left you one day? Is it because he could not stay? On your branches he would swing. Do you long for the happiness that day would bring? He found shelter in your shade. You thought his laughter would never fade. Weeping Willow, stop your tears, for there is something to calm your fears. You think death has ripped you forever apart, but I know he'll always be in your heart.”
Dearest Deann--I can so relate. In my office are momentoes from so many of those who have gone before. I have a compass which appeared in my desk. It is old, on a plastic string macrame necklace. On the outside there has been inscribed an ornate D.
I am sure it belonged to my brother Dow. I have the Bible I gave him in my purse. Since he died, it is mine now.
You are right--those small things otherwise unnoticed, become precious because of the touch of one beloved.
I remember when we were home-sitting for a year. A sister of the owners had died. All that was left of her life was a chest of drawers filled with papers and small momentoes.
When I saw that, I realized when I go, I want my life to have made a difference. I see your dear Father made a difference in your life and in the lives around him. How precious that you carry such wonderful memories in your heart.
You are close to my heart and in my prayers today. warmfully and lovingly, your sis.
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