Saturday, January 18, 2014

The things we leave behind

How do you even contemplate disposing of almost 17 years worth of a little girl's plans, dreams, inventions, creations? Every bottle cap that was going to be a necklace, every acorn cap that was a fairy bowl, the popsicle sticks and wine corks that were going to be dollhouse furniture? She had plans, schemes, ideas, a head full of wishes and thoughts that never came to fruition. Robbed of her stamina and the use of her hands, she collected the trinkets and baubles to create fairy houses, jewelry, scrapbooks. A treasure trove of bits and pieces, my little magpie has them all lovingly stored in her bedroom. And now I have to stare at them, hold them in my hands and decide over each bottle cap, each length of ribbon, every piece of paper with her handwriting, what to do with it all. The shirts with the necks cut out so they wouldn't damage her skin, the ponytail holders, the posters and books and the pieces of her life surround me. Looking at them brings no comfort, but the thought of parting with them brings nothing but hurt.

I have a sudden urge to beg my landlord to sell me this house. To never leave the last place she called home. I know I can't afford to stay. Thank the powers that be for the assistance from all over that has poured in; Walt and I will have a few months here, but before long it will be time to pack our things and go be somewhere that Cassie never was. Where she never slept or laughed or cried. For me to spend my days in rooms where I never hugged her or heard her walking around calling for the cats or cleaned up her spilled paint, spilled blood. Do I box up everything she owned and store it away? What if one day I suddenly need to see her tee shirt with the butterfly winged kittens so badly that I'll die if I can't, but it's gone? The dress she wore to her prom, the necklace she wore for her 16th birthday, the boxes of crystals, the mangas, the things that prove she was here, she was alive, that brought her such delight?

The Monster High dolls. Oh, those dolls. Dozens of them. Yes, in truth, probably about 100 of them. If you had heard her squeal of delight with each new one you would have bought her a thousand. The way her face lit up when I came home with one that was hard to find, that she couldn't wait to get. The ones she got just weeks ago for Christmas and barely got to play with. How do I let them go?

How do I let her go?

9 comments:

Kim said...

The task you have ahead of you is probably the most painful one a person can face. There is no right or wrong answer to how you deal with her possessions. They all meant so much to her, and therefore so much to you.

But practicality has to factor in I expect, especially if you will have to move. Perhaps you can create a memory box and keep those things that mean the most, take photos of her room and everything else so you'll have them to look at when you need to? Create a scrap book or ten?

Do whatever gives you comfort, whatever you can practically manage, to continue to hold dear a small part of what was her life and joy.

Tommy said...

(: Oh I guess I posted to the wrong side... Down here! :) But I just wanted to say that our awareness isn't just locked to our one being - we live in the people we've shared love with. Cassie wont be left behind, because the most important room she lives in, and still lives in, is that room called your heart.
When you're in grief remember that, and ask her, ask Cassie, what you should do. How you should feel. She's there with you all still. Her awareness. Her life. Because we all share it. And she loves you, right now, so much.

Tommy said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Unknown said...

I have no idea, but my heart breaks for you and Walt over and over. I wish I lived close enough to come help you somehow.

houdini said...

<3 I imagine Cassie as a giant smile every day. There are probably people all over the planet imagining Cassie each day in a hug, or a laugh, or any other form. She will always be here. We will never let her completely go.

houdini said...

<3 I imagine Cassie as a giant smile every day. There are probably people all over the planet imagining Cassie each day in a hug, or a laugh, or any other form. She will always be here. We will never let her completely go.

Mandy said...

Well said.

Mandy said...

Well said.

Unknown said...

Keep it all, for now. Try again in a few years, but for now? Keep it all.