I'm very sentimental. I hold onto things that have history and stories. Which is precisely why it was so important for me to have a garage sale. Because most of my marriage was lived out in our current home, my ex-husband's remains lingered in the attic and were shoved into boxes in the garage. I know exactly how morbid that sounds, but it's truly what it felt like when he moved out leaving almost everything behind.
Last spring, I had gathered an assortment of his favorite books and cds together to offer him for his new house. It was a sobering task, but I did it with as much dignity as possible because these items represented the man I remembered marrying. His response?
"Just put them on the curb."
Was he erasing his past? Did our life together deserve the same treatment as the weekly garbage?
It was with great pleasure one year later that I watched these and other belongings walk away for a buck here or a quarter there. It was liberating... even fun!
His college tent (that we camped in often) went to the local cheese man for the use of the poles... he told me he was a cub scout leader. I'll enjoy buying my gruyere even more now.
The cracked mandolin engraved with the word "angel" (not kidding!) that he had serenaded me on during our first year together? Adopted by a local musician for his little girl to play with. A truer angel, perhaps.
And the "Teach Yourself Portuguese" book that he had studied in a frenzy the fall before he left? Well, I kept it. After all... I might have a thing or two to say to his Brazilian
These stories have an edge... a sharpness that is different from my softer side, for sure. But they make me chuckle. Finding humor in the letting go has opened new doors to healing. And I've been laughing a lot these days!