So, new year, new approach and all, right?
In the week between Christmas and New Years, we decided to clean out a storage closet that has been terribly abused since we moved in 16 years ago. It took only about 30 minutes to get everything out. It took about an hour to "organize" into categories, and another hour to start disposing of the obvious garbage. Eventually, we got down to having to go through boxes. My first box was almost 100% Connor stuff, marked Connor 1st Year. Cards from the baby shower. The baby book we kept for 6 weeks until it became apparent he wasn't the same kind of baby all my friends had at home. Cards from his birth. Cards from his baptism. Hospital bracelets.
"Look!" I said, "I found our hospital bracelets from when Connor was born!" His brothers thought it was cool. I brought them upstairs to go into his memory box in my closet, already stuffed to the absolute limit. Upon closer examination, alone, I discovered that they were actually our bracelets from when he was admitted upon diagnosis of Infantile Spasms. Into the trash they went. We don't need extra reminders of that weekend.
An envelope, tiny, clearly re-purposed from a small card that arrived with a gift from my sister. On the front, I had crossed out the writing and labeled it "Connor's First Haircut 7/20/04" Man, that kid had HAIR. It changed - he was almost a redhead at birth, but then transformed into this light, light brown (or dark, dark blonde, depending on how you look at it). But oh my, I still have part of him here with me. His DNA is in my possession. It makes me so happy, and so sad.
The box held photos (kept) and artwork (tossed - he never really made those items in daycare, despite all the effort his caregivers provided) and PAPER. SO MUCH PAPER. Almost all of it gone now. One birth certificate, saved of course. THREE birth certificates of his younger brother. Clearly I did not have a good filing system.
Then we decided to take an armchair out of our bedroom for unrelated reasons, and behind that chair were almost all of the things of his that I saved. Now they are on display to us, a day and night visual reminder that no one in the family needs. I probably need to go through those and winnow. Each passing day, month and year gives me the chance to review if I have something because I need it to be with me, or because it has his name somehow ascribed to it. Sometimes, I know it was a knee-jerk reaction to the death when it happened. I'm okay with that. Grieving is unpredictable and a process and a burden and intensely, intensely personal. For us, it will be part of our lives every day, even infinitesimally, until we die.
Drew was asked to make a family tree in one of his classes. He proudly told me that he included Connor on the tree. I told him it was the right thing to do. No matter what, he is a part of our family.
The anniversary is almost here, again.
