It has been almost four years since I lost my son. Memories are the only things I have left. I say that, then I look around my house and our property. There really is so much more. But those things come with the house.
When my siblings and I downsized our mother’s living arrangements, moved her from the house she raised eight children in to a small apartment just her size, we convinced her that nostalgia lives in our hearts, not in the walls and in our belongings. I think we were partly right.
Now, I sit in a house that is really too big for two people, but I can look at the couch and imagine the times Cody and I sat in this living room and the conversations we had while he sat on that couch, or slept, or ate his food, etc. Will those visions go with me if I remove that couch, or put that couch somewhere else? Will it take more effort on my part to have those memories surface, where now they are there at every glance? Truth be told, if someone walked in my house right now, they’d assume Cody still lived there! His boots are still by the door. His tools are still in the garage. His hunting clothes still hang with all the other hunting things he had! Truth: I can change all that, but I don’t want to. Not sure how to process that.
Many things have changed, and I acknowledge that. No empty Gatorade bottles with his tobacco spit in it spread out through the house (not really an item I miss)! Pictures have been rearranged. His clothes are removed (except for a few sitting on the dryer)! I keep those there so that every once in awhile, I yell down the basement steps and tell him to come get his crap off the dryer, just because I can! It just feels right sometimes. But, again, I can’t take that situation to any other location and have it feel right!
I hope my mother adjusted well when we moved her. The big difference between the house and the loss of our sons is that my brothers did not live at home when they passed away as my son did. That seems to be the biggest hurdle I have with those memories! I don’t really have them with him anywhere else! I guess that mixes a little reality with the memory.
Bottom line, we find comfort where we can. I’m not sure I want to disrupt it, but I know at some point, I may have to. There will come a time when the furniture has to go, tools will need to be removed, and the hunting clothes will be given away, sold, or tossed. My biggest fear is the traces will be gone and I will have nothing “real” to go with that memory. It is a fear I hope truly never becomes a reality, but I am trying to brace myself anyway. I hope we were more correct when convincing our mother than I am right now, but time will tell. Until then, I will think of my son when I look at that corner of the couch, or trip on his tools in the garage, or see his hunting clothes hanging when hunting season hits, or when folding laundry and putting it on the dryer. It works for me. Least thing changed so far, I cry because he is gone, but I smile because he was here!
#gonealmostfouryears #forever24 #ifwallscouldtalk #thedashinthemiddle