I finally opened all of the boxes that we brought back from Howard’s apartment. Needless to say, it was a hard day. I cried many tears and my heart broke numerous times today. I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m okay. It’s just that some things need to be released into the world to advance healing. Being the last survivor of my immediate family is an odd place to be. I miss my brother. I miss my family. It all came back, fresh and raw, as I sorted through the boxes. Howard had Daddy’s militarily patches which I brought back. I ran across my dad’s obituary again. 1995 was a long time ago, yet just yesterday. I held my mom’s cross necklace in my hands once again and remembered her faith and her influence in my life. I smelled my brother’s essence again when I opened a well-worn leather case that held his tablet. He used it every night before he slept to listen to his favorite music. The scent of oils embedded into the well-worn leather triggered more tears as if he was in the room with me. I suppose he was, in a way. I am not to the point where I can separate mourning from memories. I will always mourn for them. But as has happened with my mom and dad, the mourning will be replaced with memories. It will happen with Howard too. I’ll think of him and smile without the tears one of these days. Or maybe there will be tears. If there are, they will be good ones that won’t last very long. It sure won’t be tomorrow though. Damn boxes. So please excuse me for putting this out here. I’m not looking for sympathy. I just needed to process a lot of feelings that were triggered by opening those boxes, and I do that by writing. This sure isn’t my best piece of writing, but I don’t mean it to be either. I’m just trying to clear away the emotional clutter from today. I’m okay. I promise.
HLT – July 2, 1953 – June 6, 2018