On our way to my high school reunion.
So our suitcases were packed.
They were in the back of the car.
The fire department had to remove the roof to get Roger out of the car.
The police searched through our stuff.
They said it was because they were looking for valuables.
For our protection.
Yeah right... I am glad that protected my 80G iPod so well that I never got it back.
In their rush of "helping" us, they messed up Roger's suitcase.
The one I bought him to match mine as a semi-joke for Christmas one year.
So we could travel together.
So we could easily spot our suitcases.
Plus he said he liked mine.
The police broke the zipper on the front pocket of the moss green suitcase.
They tore a big hole on the other front pocket.
It also had a spot of rust on the front from sitting under the replaced removed roof.
And it was dirty.
Probably even moldy.
But I kept it anyway.
I put it with all the other suitcases.
Upstairs.
Tomorrow, I have a roommate moving in.
Upstairs.
So the suitcases needed to be moved.
Hence I decided I needed to reexamine my decision to keep it.
Will I ever use it again? No.
Can it even be repaired? Maybe.
Would I repair it? Probably not.
I asked Mr. X to help me make the decision.
Since emotionally I was blinded.
Since I could not make a logical decision.
He looked at me.
He said I should keep it if I want.
He said it was up to me.
I begged him to help me.
To help me think about this logically.
The zipper could be repaired yes.
The hole was pretty severe, however.
And I have several other suitcases of similar size.
So I put it out to the curb.
I let the garbage men take it away.
It only reminded me of the accident when I saw it.
Not our honeymoon.
Not the trip to Arizona.
None of the good memories.
Only the worst.
So the suitcase is gone.
Gone...
3 comments:
It probably was a good decision, sweetie. (((HUGS))))
I suppose this should probably be a private message but I don't know how to do that in this new blog world I find myself in...
I want to thank you for giving me a kick in the ass to get up and stop taking my life for granted. To stop bitching and being annoying and feeling entitled to happiness. The timing of the words in your posts is so measured and precise - it literally stings sometimes to read something so simple that is more moving than the stack of motivational books I have in the bedroom.
I know it's certainly no silver lining or anything, but thanks.
I've found that, almost every time, having the hated, loaded object gone has been better, easier, than continuing to have it around. Granted, it always took until I was ready to have it gone to actually get rid of it...but I can't think of a single loaded-grief/accident object that I regret getting rid of. Charley's bike gear? The bike he died on? His bloody clothes?
Nope. Not a thing I wished I'd kept. Although ironically, I still have the broken bike wheel, quite by accident. I'd thrown it into a large, flat box (in which it still didn't quite fit) two moves ago, and somehow it keeps getting buried in the garage and doesn't get thrown out, even 2 houses later. I have no desire to keep it--and it's certainly not a "haunted" object anymore, just a nuisance--but it's not worth searching for it and disposing of it either.
I do still have the helmet Charley was wearing, but it's small...and in a sealed cardboard box somewhere in the garage. I couldn't tell you where. I did intentionally keep that one over the years, for that weird DNA hold I know you also felt a year ago.
Sending you big hugs for taking the big step to get rid of the suitcase. Its legacy in your memory is bad enough; you don't need the actual object making it even harder. Some things really are better to let go of and leave in the past, eventually. xoxo, Candice
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