PILES OF MEMORIES- PART 1

PILES OF MEMORIES: PART 1

By Bonnie Bruns

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life”, I tell my friend.  Even the anticipation of knowing I need to do this leaves a sick feeling inside me.  Over one year has passed now since my beautiful 23 year old daughter decided to end her life.  A few people matter-of-factly say, “It will get easier with time”, BUT THAT’S JUST NOT TRUE, at least not yet.   All we are left with now are memories and that dreaded task – going through all her things she left behind.  

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life”

We’ve put off the task long enough; we’ve gone through enough excuses for not beginning the task.  We start making piles.  We make a pile of some of her homemade things on the bed – the cloth purse she made with Grandma out of her dad’s shirts, the remaining unique stuffed bears she made and loved to give away – so creative, crafty, generous.  There’s another pile where her violin sets with a pile of music from first grade all through high school – such musical talent and the beautiful music that came out of that violin.  Then there’s the pile started with her aviation items – her private and commercial licenses, the aviation books and her headset – oh how she loved to fly, oh how she worked so hard in her studies.  Piles of photos, scrapbooks, Bibles with her personal notes written in the margins, “hardest worker” swim team trophy and “champion” Bible quiz team trophy, that silly hat she wore from her first job delivering newspapers on her bicycle. The piles continue; the unstoppable tears flow.

image from: recyclenation.com

The piles continue; the unstoppable tears flow.

But what awaits us are the ever-visible five large blue trunks stacked on top of each other in the garage, the ones she had ready to take back with her to Purdue when she returned from Germany – always so neat and organized.  What does each one hold?  More memories, I’m sure; the stirring of more hard emotions, I’m sure.  This is going to be a slow, hard process, I’m sure.