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I can't throw certain things in the trash. It makes it all too final.
It was a rainy day so I decided to take my coffee in my spare bedroom and tackle the boxes from my mom’s house. When my mother passed away, I took several boxes crammed with items I tossed inside hurriedly, without taking much time to look through. Nearly 3 years later, those boxes still sit untouched in a closet. It started out well. I had Pandora Radio on and was zipping through items easily enough. Toss pile, keep pile. No problems. There were things, where when I picked them up, I thought “why did I think to throw this metallic serving bowl with wood handles and small ducks around the middle in the box”? Toss pile for sure. Some things I laughed out loud when I saw them. Altoids mint can with 8 mints left. At the time I’m sure I was crying and just had to keep her mint tin that she had used to keep her breath minty fresh. Toss pile.

On and on it went like this until I had several large piles to take to the trash. Then I opened a box and felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. This box contained every award I've ever received from grades first through my senior year in high school. There was my graduation cap and gown. My senior photos, including the giant sized portrait she opted for in the most elaborate package offered. Newspaper clippings, report cards, placement tests, progress reports, math packets, a ribbon from a writing contest in 7th grade, 8th grade science projects, letters from classmates thanking her for being a chaperone on our field trip to the Zoo, and of course hundreds of photos. To think she kept all these accolades, as they were handed to me, no wrinkles in the pages, completely astounded me. I really had no idea she had kept all of that. I looked through all of them and was overcome with emotion. She had taken great care of them, treasured them. I sat on the floor with pages and pages spread around me, photos in my lap and cried. What would I do with all of it? I came to the realization that there is only one person in this whole world that would want any of it, and that person is gone. What to do with it, though? I couldn’t bring myself to throw away the things my mom cared for so much.

I placed the box aside and moved on to the next one where I found the other things I had taken from her house. An award she received when she worked at the Marriott and had helped a man who was suffering from a stroke. Because of her quick thinking and fast acting of calling the paramedics, the man had lived. A recognition letter for 5 years of service at the Marriott. There were awards from her elementary school days, her marriage license, address book, and grocery lists. This was easy, keep pile for sure. I found I wanted these things, needed them, all of them, anything that had to do with her life before me and with me.

So I guess I’ll keep my awards and old photos. Someday, maybe someone will need them too.
© Copyright 2011 Andrea Bolt (kafkafan at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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