Letter 55 – Your Things

Hi, Garrett,

I didn’t keep many of your things. I remember Kevin saying that you didn’t really have many things, and it was sad how little you had, but I thought differently. What had been important to you changed over time, and you got rid of the things that weren’t important to you anymore. We don’t often keep all the things that had once been important to us. The things I have now have been built up over a lifetime, but my mementos are few. Enough to fit in a cabinet.

I kept your memory box. The box was what was meaningful to me. What was inside constantly changed. You loved the idea of having a place to keep special things, as I had with the cabinet. I remember picking out the box with you. You were so excited. Your own box for your own special memories. And that is my special memory. And that box is in my cabinet.

Kevin invited several of your friends over to take anything they liked. Rihanna took your winter coat that you wore all the time. She also chose a necklace hanging from a hook. Solana took a lot of your clothes. I hope she wears the heck out of those clothes. Jonathan asked if he could have your driver’s license. I don’t know why. Please don’t do anything illegal with that license, Jonathan. I haven’t heard anything about it since then, so I guess it turned out fine. I’m not sure what else he took, or your other friends, but your room was pretty cleared out. And it was good. I hope all the things they took became important to them at the moment they decided to take it as a memory of you.

We let them sit in your room with your door closed. They were in there for a long time. We heard them laughing. And joking. I’m glad they had one last time in your place. It felt right to let these things go. Your wallet was in there with money in it. No one took it. They took the things that spoke of you.

I kept a few things. A dark red shirt that you looked so handsome in. The ridiculous pink pj pants that you wore around the house all the time. Some hats. You never went anywhere without a hat on your head. Even in the house, you had a hat on. For a while it was socks. And then it was hats.

Mostly what’s important to me is the box, and my memories. All the photos I haven’t been able to view. I can see them in my mind. Ones that shout out joy, and show our love, or are simply records of the life we lived as a family.

I think that soon I might be able to sit down and go through these. I’d like to. I know it will be difficult. But I’ve reached the point where I want to see you, as you were, and remember all the joy and love we had for so many years. I want to reincorporate my memories of you back into my soul. And I want to smile when I think of you, and to think of you with love and thankfulness for the 17 years you were here with us.