There’s a box in Brendan’s closet. And much like the annoying Mayflies that slip through open doors in late spring, dancing just out of reach but close enough to be an annoyance, it hangs over us. Its contents begging to be released...
A few weeks have passed since my son moved to college and in the eerie quiet that now fills our home I find myself sitting in his room. Although much emptier than usual he’s still managed to leave behind more than his fair share of odds and ends. As I begin shuffling through the half marked notebooks, stacks of record albums and empty gum wrappers peeking out at random places, I suddenly feel an urge to clean. Recognizing this moment of inspiration for the rarity that it is, the methodical and somewhat therapeutic process of sorting things into piles begins.. this pile is for Goodwill… that for the scrapbook I’ll certainly get to at some point… and my mind begins to wander.
It’s in this moment I’m reminded of a similar routine religiously practiced these last 20 years. With the kids’ birthdays hitting less than one month apart and right before the onslaught of the holidays, Fall signaled a need to declutter. A smile escapes my lips as I recall a younger version of myself years ago, a new mom making her first attempt to create a semblance of order in my then four year old daughter’s room. Elbows deep in tubs of toys, lying at odd angles to reach hidden corners under beds, I begin my collection of discarded items. As the pile sorting begins, a little Londyn comes running into her room. Eyes wide in disbelief she emphatically exclaims that she does!! in fact still love that half clothed Barbie with dust clinging to it like an accessory. And so a mental note was made to practice future declutter routines only when I had the house to myself.
Fast forward to the present and this memory, just one of many chapters added to my ever expanding book of life, guides me now. As any parent eventually discovers, it’s not worth the drama one may unintentionally create when the wrong item gets thrown out. So applying past lessons, I collect Brendan’s abandoned clutter into a box to be sorted through with him at a later date, simultaneously achieving the immediate satisfaction of perceived organization.
The first few days following Londyn’s death were a blur and our world was disorienting to say the least. As the days slowly unfolded we found ourselves juggling a barrage of questions no parent should ever have to face. Burial or cremation? Memorial details including music, speakers, time and location. Which picture should we select to display? What to wear to the macabre events suddenly invading our calendar? But the question that loomed heaviest of all, what in the world to do with all her stuff? I was initially determined to keep it all, every single item down to the last thrift sweater. In that moment, these knick-knacks represented the last real connection I had with my girl. But with some time and guidance, we slowly made our peace to part with many of her things. And now, these last few precious souvenirs of the past along with photos and memories are the only tangible evidence I have left of my angel’s earthly existence.
When our time comes to die, and it will one day for all of us, what will we leave behind? Yes we all have our stuff, a myriad of things from fine jewelry to kitchen appliances, designer shoes and cute pet accessories. And as nice as our stuff may be, carefully selected and collected over a lifetime, when it comes down to it these are items our loved ones will ultimately be left with to sort through and place their own value on.
But what of our legacy? At Londyn’s funeral, I never once heard someone ask to see all the “things” she had acquired through life. There wasn’t a space dedicated to showcase her many miscellaneous possessions, no parade for displaying items purchased for all to see. Instead, she left behind something greater. The words of love and her impact on others’ lives that would be shared with us over the course of those first few weeks and months following her death filled our hearts with incredible joy and pride. After all, a life well lived is not measured in things. But this phrase, familiar to many of us, is easier said than done. Equally as guilty in my desire for nice things, I am certainly not passing judgment. Nor am I suggesting we all sell our possessions. But when we find ourselves running the rat race, when we stress our emotional and mental health (not to mention our wallets) just to keep up with “the Joneses” it might be worth asking ourselves if it’s worth the cost?
I’m sure it won’t surprise you to know, despite my best intentions, Brendan’s box of stuff is still where I left it, untouched in the back corner of his closet, nestled between other….well…stuff. Collecting dust and quickly forgotten Brendan has moved on to other things. And those precious weekends that find him making his way home when we could be cataloguing its contents are spent instead making memories, going to see the latest movie, planning our next trip and just enjoying the moments we have together. As for the physical items adorning Londyn’s room, things I once mistook as my last remaining links to her, have instead been replaced by something more valuable. Although her time here on Earth may have been short, it seems she was busy spreading a message of love and acceptance to everyone she met. In recent months we’ve been contacted by individuals reaching out to share their stories of her and the impact she had on their lives. These strangers quickly turned friends are becoming a part of our ever expanding family and with each new acquaintance we meet, it feels as if we gain a small piece of our angel back again.
As for Brendan’s box of stuff, its value is diminishing. With each passing day the relevance of its contents lose worth and with our new perspective firmly in hand, priorities have shifted its importance to the bottom of our list. Despite its bleak future, ours has found new purpose. Taking up the mantle left by our angel, our challenge has been laid…to build on the legacy of love she left behind. And in doing so we hope to honor the one who showed us how to truly live and, in our turn, leave behind the stuff that really matters.
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