Warm and humid. Rain each day. A day to stay inside and sort items. I already showed you some photos I found of Al and me when we were younger. I look at those photos and ask myself, where did the time go? Did I really used to be that much smaller?
I have 2 weeks before I move and for this reason I am not busting ___ to get things packed. I box up, take a break, and then go back to it. It has been difficult going through things. A lot of it has been packed up ever since I left Warsaw.
People tell me that certain places, roads, smells and what-have-yous, are part of the memories of loved ones that have passed on to the pearly gates of heaven. I believe this to be true. It can be the most simple, innocent thing, and boom; your heart is breaking all over again.
I found Al’s memorials from his funeral today. I found the guest book that each had signed as they entered the funeral. I discovered a medium-sized box on the shelf in the spare bedroom closet. I hadn’t opened it since I moved here 8 months ago.
I pulled it down and opened it up. My heart pinched as I looked in the box. There was Al’s favorite, small Bel-Aire cars. My heart squeezed a little tighter when I next saw his favorite Indiana hat he wore up until he was bed bound.
I guess my heart just couldn’t take it as I pulled out the next item. I touched it gently. I sat on the floor and cried once again for what I have lost. I was remembering back to the sound it put off. It was Al’s way of communicating before he could move no more body parts. It means nothing to anyone else.
In fact, some may toss it away, or give it away. For me, I will carry it in my presence forever. Maybe I will even be buried with it by my side to show Al I am coming to be with him.
You ask what this simple, non-important thing is? Nothing more than an old bike horn. Yes, this was how Al let me know when ever he needed or wanted something. What I wouldn’t give to see him squeeze it just one more time.