Yesterday my husband and I attended the wedding of a widower and a widow. It was lovely to share in the union before heaven of two people who have been through a couple of thick slices of life.
The invitation said, quite firmly, No Gifts. Of course not! Two fully-equipped homes were marrying each other that day…
I smiled remembering our own later-in-life wedding not so long ago. Everyone had known it was soon to be followed by a cross-country move. Everyone understood why we were quite firm about No Gifts. But of course folks had snuck in a few store gift cards into their greetings and it was so sweet to find them. We decided we would pass that blessing along.
This morning I persisted with shredding old tax returns and found myself battling ghosts as I fed pages and pages documenting half-forgotten memories of old jobs, unanswered questions, questionable decisions and discarded plans past the steel teeth. If we could put time in a bottle, uncork it once we KNOW, and get to do some of this over again….
This stirring up of memories. If we look hard and deeply at our reluctance to clear out our closets, I believe we’ll find it’s to avoid facing the memory, both sweet and bitter, of who we’ve been and how we’ve come to here.