NuevaVida
Posts: 6707
Joined: 8/5/2008 Status: offline
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About a year and a half ago I walked into the home I had created and subsequently left (husband and I separated) to find it completely empty. All of the things I have ever owned (childhood books and photos, family keepsakes, letters, etc.) were gone. Not a picture on the wall, not a book on the shelf, even the furniture was gone. My husband decided since I had left him, I had left everything, and didn’t deserve to have it anymore. The experience was pretty shocking and devastating, to say the least, and I spent a great deal of time (on my own and in therapy) to overcome this violation and to let go. Added to the shock of suddenly not owning anything anymore, of no longer having the sentimental things that had so much value to me (even the irises from my grandmother’s garden were pulled), was the shock that someone I had loved so much would do this to me, and to my family. I think I would have handled it better if, say, a fire had destroyed everything rather than losing it all to a vindictive act by a man who claimed to love me. Frankly, I’m still not over it, although I have managed to accept it and come to terms with it. I learned to say goodbye to my things and start anew. I learned that “things” are just things, even those things the family has passed down through generations. I learned that the really important things in life are the intangible things – love, faith, friendships, family, hope, what we focus on, etc. In the final divorce negotiations – all 18 hours of them – he agreed to return the keepsakes. He could keep the furniture, the money, the things we acquired together. But I wanted my family’s things back. He agreed to return them, back in March. March came and went…April, May…you get the idea. I decided I wasn’t going to see these things again, and came to terms with that. On Thursday of this week, he emailed me that he had left a bunch of boxes for me at my attorney’s office, and yesterday a friend came with me to inventory them and take them home. Much of what he returned was junk that I used to beg him to throw out when I lived with him. I have every file for every bill we have ever paid in the last 10 years, for accounts that don’t even exist anymore. OK, easy enough – I have a shredder and that solves that. The majority of my family’s things were not returned, but many items were. It was a bit surreal to go through them, since I had already grieved them and didn’t think I’d see them again. The first item that made me break into tears was a box of antique soaps I had bought my grandmother but didn’t have an opportunity to give her – she died before I could. And then there was the framed photo of an uncle in Spain – a most beautiful man and one of my favorite people ever – who died of stomach cancer 6 months after I left my husband and 6 months before my Dad died. Emilio called me a few days before he died, to say goodbye, and to remind me to hold onto hope and goodness, no matter how bad things would get. Then there was my Dad’s piano music…and so it went. It was an emotional day. So I’m sitting here this morning, still blown away by these feelings. I thought “things” didn’t matter, so then why am I so affected still, by “things?” Is it “things” that we love, or what they represent to us? And if it’s what they represent, do we need the things to remind us of what is important? I find myself really emotional today, and I’m not even sure why. I think going through these things has made me feel the pain of losing them again, and of all that happened in between, as though I’ve come full circle. So what have I learned from the loss and recovery? What am I gaining by this? Do I even want these things back, or has my life become simplified by no longer having them? I looked through a lot of it and thought, “This was once really important to me, but I don’t care about it anymore” but the idea of giving it away feels like losing something all over again. I’m rambling here…I’m processing. I’m not looking for sympathy; I suppose I’m looking to see if anyone has been through something parallel, and can share how they dealt with it. I’m wondering what is the importance of things to people, and why? And once we learn to live without them, even if we still miss them, do we really want them back? Just some heavy thoughts for a Saturday morning. Any thoughts contributed to this will be appreciated. I’m feeling a bit confused about everything I thought I had come to terms with. If nothing else, it helps to journal this out. Thanks for reading…I think I need to click on the link in my signature line now.
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Live Simply. Love Generously. Care Deeply. Speak Kindly.
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