My Stuff
I moved the last of my stuff out of the garage today and found myself getting emotional...even more so then when I moved my day-to-day stuff out. I've been trying to figure out why. It's not that I'm still pining for Nancy or that I even want to be back in that environment. I know a part of it is the end of the end but something just hit me...it's the lawn tractor.
Largely we agreed on what items in the house should go with me and what should remain but things in the garage have been a bigger fight. "This is mine.", "My parents gave this to me.", "No, that stays with the house.", etc. The lawn tractor has a symbolic meaning that I'd forgotten and really affected my reaction today.
I remember my dad standing on the deck shortly after we moved in and he saying, "You can't do this lawn with a push mower" (it's a little less then an acre). We couldn't afford a riding mower so he bought us one. You know how you put up the "No, you don't have to do that" argument? I could see the gleam in his eye that he wanted this so I didn't even put up token resistance. He said, "Just let me come out and ride it around the yard for a while."
Over the span of the next year he got sicker, Kaleigh (my daughter) was born, and life, as it tends to do got in the way...he never came out. I took Sean (my son) and six-month old Kaleigh to my parents and enjoyed a summer afternoon outside. At one point my dad said once again, "I really need to get out there and mow some of your grass". I said, "You should" and we made tentative plans for him to do so because he was feeling stronger.
He died the following Saturday.
I now live in an apartment both in Iowa and in Louisiana and I don't plan on needing a lawn tractor anytime soon. I don't need it, can't use it and yet leaving it behind feels like leaving my father behind. I know I shouldn't dismiss my feelings, but I really feel stupid right now. This is idiotic...it's a pile of bolts and nuts.
Largely we agreed on what items in the house should go with me and what should remain but things in the garage have been a bigger fight. "This is mine.", "My parents gave this to me.", "No, that stays with the house.", etc. The lawn tractor has a symbolic meaning that I'd forgotten and really affected my reaction today.
I remember my dad standing on the deck shortly after we moved in and he saying, "You can't do this lawn with a push mower" (it's a little less then an acre). We couldn't afford a riding mower so he bought us one. You know how you put up the "No, you don't have to do that" argument? I could see the gleam in his eye that he wanted this so I didn't even put up token resistance. He said, "Just let me come out and ride it around the yard for a while."
Over the span of the next year he got sicker, Kaleigh (my daughter) was born, and life, as it tends to do got in the way...he never came out. I took Sean (my son) and six-month old Kaleigh to my parents and enjoyed a summer afternoon outside. At one point my dad said once again, "I really need to get out there and mow some of your grass". I said, "You should" and we made tentative plans for him to do so because he was feeling stronger.
He died the following Saturday.
I now live in an apartment both in Iowa and in Louisiana and I don't plan on needing a lawn tractor anytime soon. I don't need it, can't use it and yet leaving it behind feels like leaving my father behind. I know I shouldn't dismiss my feelings, but I really feel stupid right now. This is idiotic...it's a pile of bolts and nuts.