State of Shock


stock picture stolen from someone's flickr

There is, in my grandparent's house, a vortex known as "the middle bedroom". Its a place, a closet actually, where unwanted gifts once went to die (much like the Island of Lost Toys, but for panini presses and frozen yogurt makers), but is now peopled by Pyrex bowls, salad spinners and sundry kitchen overflow. Tasked at putting away folding chairs after lunch today, I had occasion to open the closet, and immediately wished I hadn't. In a brown paper grocery sack next to the ironing board, a stack of National Geographics (the children of an uncanceled subscription) nearly brought my salad back up into my mouth. The ghost of my grandfather's death, a thing rarely mentioned, but that I think about daily, kicked me square in guts. The sadness of a bag full of unwanted magazines overwhelmed me more than I ever thought possible. I can't imagine how much it must hurt my Nanny to live in a house haunted by the absence of a spouse. The constant reminders of a life built together and ripped apart by sickness and death would be more than I could take, and I understand now why she moved so quickly to empty the garage and divest herself of his orphaned possessions. Do you cancel a 40 year subscription to your husband's favorite magazine, or do you let its regular delivery lay fresh that deepest of wounds 12 times a year?

How do you choose between honoring the dead, and moving on with your life?
- posted by Mason @ 10:53 PM