Picking apart the past
Today we spent picking apart the carcass of my parents’ lives. I arrived first and was alone to walk about the past and breath in the empty space. It was very sad. The others arrived and we got down to business. We still haven’t finished. I didn’t get the fireside bench, I didn’t get the half moon table, but I did get a nice small carpet, all the CDs that the others didn’t want, Dad’s ties, woollen scarves, his woollen hat, the neat box of stationary… all these small details that made up the intimacies of their lives. I brought home my quarry and the children were delighted. They took bits of the stationary and Sunny took the ties and said it would be an honour to wear them. I cried. It made me sad to think this was part of a past that can never be revisited. I thought of Ma and how it must feel for her, seeing all her possessions divided among her children, how happy it makes them, and how very desolate and alone it must make her feel. I thought of Dad " he would never wear his ties, scarves, his woolly hat again.