I threw away three boxes of my sister's things today. My mom would have been dead 4 years on the 25th and in September it will be 4 years since my sister's death.
Throwing away things that someone else treasured is a very surreal experience. It's just so strange to throw away things like little notes she passed between her friends or papers on science that she was proud of. Because although those things were special to her, they aren't to me. It's hard to throw the things away because I feel like the world wants me to mourn my family forever. I was telling Dennis today that I can't live the rest of my life in "luto" (grief in Spanish).
So it was liberating to throw away boxes of little things that I needed to throw away. And now we have a little more space in our spare bedroom. Bittersweet but necessary. Just weird. Like her journals from when she was like 7 years old, reading about how she experienced things so differently then I did. Or like clay handprints. I can't throw away a hand print that she made in clay. So I packed it up. I think I will give it to my dad.
*Sunday school anecdote: (on a lighter note maybe, depending on how you think...) One of the little boys in class was in charge of praying for the sick people in our church and he prayed for Tammy Faye Baker. Hilarious. He didn't know her name but he knew she had died and that she was important. Cute.