Sunday, April 28, 2013

Sunday Night Reflections

Since my dad died, my family has been going through his boxes, organizing the life he left behind. With each opened box, I learn more about him.
More about his passions, like poetry, music, and flamenco dancing.
More about his compulsions, like keeping documents, no matter how unimportant, for over thirty years.
More about his caring, like letters sent from clients, thanking him for being there through difficult times.
More about how he loved us. Because in those boxes were cards we'd given him throughout his life and remembrances of his children's achievements.
And it was then, standing silent over those boxes, as tears and dust mixed upon my face, that I wondered what my children would find in my boxes when I'm gone.
Would they puzzle over the clothes that I used to wear on stage when I played in a rock band?
Would they argue over who would keep the blue plexiglass peace sign I bought at a garage sale?
Would they be amazed at how many pictures I had of their mom?
Would they remark at how odd it was that I loved writing, music and truth like my dad?
And most of all, as they looked at the stories I'd written, would tears and dust mix upon their faces as they realized how much I loved them?
What will be in your boxes?
                                                                                                                     Jim Warda

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  1. I have a 'keeping box' that have been filling with things that I wish to be defined by - theatre tickets with small notations, my reviews of books and films, letters, thank you cards from dinner guests. All of this might be thrown away or if I'm lucky enough to live a long life, my daughters might be old enough to reflect on them just as you are sifting through your father's memories.

  2. Hello Rhonda, it's always so amazing finding out things about your parents after they die. And before. It's part of who we are. I guess we all want to be remembered for something when we are dead - life is so ephemeral and transient, just a dream within a dream, but an evocative emotional dream none the less.