How Do You Say Goodbye to Yesterday?

How do you say goodbye to yesterday? How do you say goodbye to memories and places that will forever be in your heart? You never realize how much a house or a knick-knack is a part of you until you stand there packing things away because its time to let them go.

I helped pack up my uncle's house today, but I found myself packing away so much more than things. As I turned a corner or opened a drawer, I was confronted with old memories of running around that house as a child when my grandmother lived there-when I lived there-because almost all of us had lived in that house at one time or another. There are so many memories tied to that house and to the one next door. I could hear my grandmother call me to breakfast. I could see myself playing in the back yard. I learned to ride my bike on that street. I held hands with one of my first boyfriends on that swing. My granddad used to whittle underneath that old tree.

We disconnected a phone number that had been tied to my family and that house for over forty years! Its like saying goodbye to an era as much as it saying goodbye to loved ones. The pain I feel as I write this is crushing. How do you begin to box up all those years and find some way to salvage the love and tears that are held in those walls? How do take them away from a place and make others understand in the future what happened there?

I want people to understand what happened there. I want people to know about the wonderful people who lived in those houses, who took care of people and kissed boo boos. I want people to know about the old man that used to garden that back field, to know about that special woman who always put others first. I want them to remember my uncle for his loving heart and his commitment to see others for who they were inside and accept them with a quiet grace.

How do I do that? How do I make those lives live on because I don't want to pack them away into boxes. I don't want them to fade away. 910 and 914 Minnesota Ave. you were a haven, a comfort, and so much more than shelter. You were home.


Addendum:
I wrote this in November of 2008 after losing my uncle quite suddenly. In packing away his things, I realized how much of my life was getting packed away as well. It was a heartbreaking time for my family because we are so tight-knit. I still don't know how to hold on to these memories or how to preserve the people we've lost for the future to see, but I hope one day I can.