Yes, I know the term. We’d spend weeks packing then everything would go into a moving truck and we’d drive all day to a new location. Dad would be so excited to start his new job he’d leave us with The Rule, back out of the driveway and go to work.
The Rule was that every box had to be unpacked before we went to bed. Bedrooms set up, sheets, clothing, books. I have boxes here for nearly five years. It drives my husband nuts. Luckily I’ve recently run into a guy who works at a place that destroys old documents…. for the Pentagon.
I do have some sensitive work documents that must be destroyed. Years ago this company hired a complete idiot to run the place. He immediately fired me. Then he asked me to come in the next day, after I’d given him my key to the office (no fobs or badges back then) and demanded every document I’d ever worked on in past years. I said he should have thought of that while I was being paid.
Then I called and drove to the chairman of the board and told him the story. The new boss wanted confidential information about Board members I had sworn to never reveal, so I told faux boss that unless I was in attendance and the Board voted to do so (they then elected me to the Board) said release would not happen. I still have said information and have never disclosed it. The Chairman laughed and fake boss-man was fired weeks later. To finish this chapter I have to watch these documents be burned and now know how to do so. Finished?
What gets my husband is that our home still has 10-15 boxes. For me, I’d like my Ferragamo scarves, which I’ve yet to find. He wants to get rid of everything. I need to go through it.
I’ve been forced to move about 40 times in my life. I take care of a husband (and him, me), and an old dog. Dad is finished, died over the holidays. I don’t abide by his rules anymore. Yes, I’d like to finish the boxes and completely clean the oven and frig. And get my keyboard out of storage. I’m having a set-up for my guitar and plan to take up music again because that was Dad’s love. I see music in my head all the time and I’m wearing a wooden guitar pick with a Celtic knot design on a leather cord around my neck for his memory.
As Bob Dylan would say: Yes, and how many years can some people exist
Before they’re allowed to be free? Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn’t see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind. The answer is blowin’ in the wind. I love and will badly paraphrase the Arlo Guthrie story that says writing music is like fishing. Just don’t set up downstream from Bob Dylan.
I’m not finished. My health suffers but I’ve things to do and people and animals to care for. My time has never been my own, but I’m not finished, yet.
After I took dear old Zoe to the vet to check out a growth and get her nails trimmed and new heartworm meds, I went to an excellent pharmacy for a “sock consultation.” Yes, my current compression socks are impeding, not enhancing, circulation. Zoe stayed in the shade, in my car, windows cracked appropriately. She now has cataracts. So do I. She’s over 90 in “people years,” happy and healthy and I hope to be so as well. I’m not finished yet.
There are things to do, meals to plan and cook, people to see, pets to love. Dad is gone, not forgotten, ever. A wonderful piece was just written about him the other day. It was not a press release. Someone actually put thought into it and even mentioned two of my mentors my freshman year in college. I watched his coffin go down into a grave and the cemetery says they don’t know his name or of his existence there or anywhere. I do. I’m not finished. Neither is he. His life will be recognized.
Happy Hallmark holiday! We don’t celebrate it as I buy my husband flowers every week after 15 years of him doing so for me, and asked 15 years ago to not have a diamond engagement ring. I did get a sterling silver claddagh ring for a belated birthday one year because I’ve always wanted one and wear it every day. I can say they’re the quirkiest gifts I’ve ever received, “golf bracelets” with magnets that have quelled my wrist arthritis for over a decade. God bless him. Dee
I’ll now have a few scientific flasks and beakers for floral arrangements. It’s an unusual gift but the right one for my love. Dee