Erasing Memories

Losing someone you love is hard; although that may seem like an obvious statement.

The week after my dad passed, being at my parents house, I came face to face with things my dad left behind.

The night he passed — his glasses sitting on the loveseat, broken. ‘Who’s glasses are these?’, I wondered, and then I knew. My dad’s.

The next day, Saturday, I didn’t want to clean up his empty food containers, syringes and measuring cup on the counter by the sink. I couldn’t it. It was too hard. And then, on Sunday, I arrive at my parents and I noticed that everything had been cleared away.

Sunday, walking into the play room at my parents — my dad’s hat, coat, scarf sitting on the radiator, waiting, right where he left them.

A day or two later — while helping my mom pick out an outfit for the service, I noticed a piece of paper with a sketch, dad’s handwriting, regarding the fence he was in the process of putting up around their house.

My dad’s clothes in his closet, his handkerchiefs sitting on his dresser…all reminders of him…

And as time continues and these reminders of him are cleared away, given away, moved, changed…I feel like we’re erasing the memories of him.

Now I know that is not specifically true, but it seems like it.

And to my heart, at this moment, it feels true.

I will always treasure my dad. And losing him, and moving his stuff around, as time continues to pass here on earth, feels like I’m somehow erasing him…even though I’m not.