There is one place in my house that I don’t like to open. In fact, I can say with all honesty that I truly hate it.
There are two closets in my husband and I’s room. One closet is open and used daily, the other closet stays shut and is only opened when necessary.
The light in the closet that we use daily doesn’t work. The light in the closet that we don’t use works perfectly. I have no idea if there is any significance to that, but I do believe that it’s ironic.
After The Accident, we had to put things away. Things that we didn’t want to put away. Things that should have continued to be used and outgrown and then given away to the next lucky recipient.
Our first week back to our Classical Conversations community after The Accident, I went into Boston’s classroom and grabbed his pencil box and other items, tossed them in my bag and walked out of the building. When I got home I tossed them into the closet and shut the door and walked away to make dinner. It’s an orange pencil box.
Several months later, Mike decided that he was going to clean up the closet. I stayed in the kitchen and he organized and sifted through things and put items into a box that I had tossed into the closet that I had found around the house and wanted to keep. I worked in the kitchen and wouldn’t walk to our bedroom while he continued to work. When he was done he said, “You can use that closet now. I put everything away. You won’t see it.” It’s true. Everything was put away.
I still hate that closet.
I’m not entirely sure of my point in this post, but last night I was laying in bed before I turned the lights out and grief hit my chest heavy. My heart is broken and I stared at that closed closet and thought, “There are memories in there that I love, but there are memories in there that make me weep because our son is not here. I should’ve washed those clothes more often because they were caked with mud. I should’ve tossed those shoes in the trash because they were worn out. I should’ve tossed the crayons because they were stubs. I should’ve…”
There are a lot of should’ves in our lives. There are things that we regret. There are people and things that have been taken from us too soon, and we should be still taking care of them. Like taking care of their laundry and giving away clothes that are too small.
Somehow we wake up the next day with those shoud’ves in the back of our minds. Our eyes open at the sound of the alarm. Our heads lift off the pillow. Our feet touch the floors and we take showers, get dressed, get ready and face the days whether we are ready or not. And us grievers, us sufferers do not do it on our own strength, no. It is simply by the hand of Jesus gently on our heads directing us where to go because he knows that we cannot take a breath without him putting the air in our lungs.
In 20 days Boston would be nine. His absence is still so poignant, so heavy. A cavernous hole in our familial unit. The only thing I know for sure is that Jesus has been enough and I still don’t like that closet. #TillweareHome