driftwood

I found the driftwood with Ray’s name on it. I remember you couldn’t let it go when you had your retreat. You were supposed to write a loved one’s name that you lost and then release them into the river. You kept it. And, now I know why.

To me, driftwood symbolizes life. Shoreline erosion, molding, shaping, changing over time. Water washing away things and bringing new impacts. Things coming and going, but leaving behind a one of a kind piece of life.

To sort through the stuff. The thought was daunting when you were here, but now, well now it’s numbing. After 16 years in my lil cave, I’m finally moving. How many times did we try to do it together and then come to the conclusion that it was too much to handle. We dreamt often, acted once (which is an still ongoing disaster). But, we always made a point of looking and searching for our new. Often saying that when the cancer passed, we would start fresh elsewhere. Well the cancer has passed, but it’s no longer “we”.  Just me, starting “fresh” somewhere. Not quite as imagined.

How do I go through your stuff. You weren’t really a man of stuff. Most of your being was carried within you. Not stuff that can be moved. As I purge the physical stuff, the mental grows. The memories are starting to come back. It is a slow process. It is a difficult process. However, I am so very fortunate that you were a man of honest words. So many notes. So many letters. So much truth, love and compassion. I am lucky that you were a strong man. A forward man. Not afraid of sharing.  Not afraid of telling me you loved me, and not afraid of often.

These little pieces make up your driftwood. I will not let them go. And, you know why.