Digging for Memories
Everything that we owned was stuffed into a storage shed. When I need something, I just have to go dig for it. Thankfully I had several friends that showed up on packing day to label the boxes. It sure has made life easier. Since I started back to school this week, I need to find some of my educational stuff before I start teaching next week. I have not really gone through much of the stuff, but I remember the day that I picked up Sean’s personal effects from Iraq. I met my CAO (casualty assistance officer; assigned by the Army to help me wade through the Army system) at Fort Hood to finalize some paperwork and pick up the belongings. I had waited for over 3 months to get the foot lockers. I was very curious at what kind of stuff Sean had accumulated the nine months he was there. I wondered if he had bought us some “souvenirs” for gifts . . . he never was a shopper but he had become one since we moved to Germany. He did not always have the best taste so I was nervous, but excited in a strange way.
I loaded all five black footlockers in the car and the CAO drove away. I just wanted to open them right then and there, but I was in the parking lot for vehicle registration on Fort Hood . . . probably not the best place to tackle such an emotional experience. So I drove home instead. I got home, got a pair of scissors, and cut the tape on the first one. As soon as it popped opened I smelled Sean . . . it was the best scent I could have smelled. I poked through the rest of the stuff but decided the time was just not right. I placed them in the back on the storage shed, locked the door, and went to my room to cry. All I could think was . . . this is how you sum up this life . . . how depressing. He was so much more than some footlockers full of stuff.
I loaded all five black footlockers in the car and the CAO drove away. I just wanted to open them right then and there, but I was in the parking lot for vehicle registration on Fort Hood . . . probably not the best place to tackle such an emotional experience. So I drove home instead. I got home, got a pair of scissors, and cut the tape on the first one. As soon as it popped opened I smelled Sean . . . it was the best scent I could have smelled. I poked through the rest of the stuff but decided the time was just not right. I placed them in the back on the storage shed, locked the door, and went to my room to cry. All I could think was . . . this is how you sum up this life . . . how depressing. He was so much more than some footlockers full of stuff.
posted by Heidi at 10/20/2005 07:36:00 AM
2 Comments:
Again, because of my age I can understand exactly what you mean. My husband's aunt was childless but had many, many possessions. She died three years ago at age 90. We had to go through her things, all belongings, photos, papers, etc. We also had to do that with my mother and father's things. But they had seven children, 21 grandchildren, and several great grandchildren. They had not nearly as many possessions and for some reason with the family connections we did not feel that it all came down to possesions.
And that is true for Sean, too. You have your son, he is a part of him, not a possession, a real life part of what he was, and you will have that forever. I am so sorry you will not have Sean to share all those special things of raising that child but you look for signs and I think the greatest will be seen in him. Sean is not in what he possessed but what he did and the son and wife he loved. Someday you will be able to tackle those boxes and I hope you can do it with tears and with joy.
My husband's footlockers were sent to my fathers while he recovered at Walter Reed for over a year. When we got our things from transportation my father brought up the foot lockers. One night Bryan was looking through them and he called me downstairs. His IBA that was blood soaked was in his hands. I was surprised they sent it back after they cut it off and it was stained but it was very emotional for both of us. I can't imagine what it was like for you to go through them. My heart aches at the thought of it.
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