Paradox

Part of what is overwhelming me right now is the massive quantity of “stuff” in our house that I need to organize. Stuff that has no place because it doesn’t belong here, stuff that shouldn’t belong anywhere. Stuff we have because our son died.

I am so conflicted about these things. I know we will keep them forever, anything that is Joel will always have a place in my home. But it’s just awful that so much of what is Joel is the fact that he isn’t here. I knew that handling these things would be hard; it was harder than I imagined. Part of why it was so difficult is because these things represent people. People who love us, who love Joel, people who are generous and good and caring when the world seems dark and cruel.

I have this, this pile of papers that is still growing.

                


They are letters from the Beaumont Foundation. “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Leo…” They usually contain a list of names, sometimes five and six names in one letter. I can’t believe how many names are in this pile. It is overwhelming in itself. The light of Joel’s life is so much brighter because in his death I have the privilege of seeing the generosity of so many. Because I have seen so many. We have so many friends, family, just so many people. We are loved beyond comprehension and this stack of papers is proof. It’s proof that so many people wanted Joel’s legacy to live on. That so many people wanted us to know we are loved, that our son will not be forgotten, that his name will be known, that we matter. I can’t fathom it.

And I have this.


                          


I call it the grief basket. How horrifying is that? No one should have such a thing. That thing in the back? It’s a catalogue of containers for ashes. I have to pick a container for my son’s ashes. Dear God help me this is just so horrifyingly awful.

But this basket is full. Overflowing. Full of cards and letters and notes. Full of words from so many. This basket makes me sick and fills my heart all at the same time. It doesn’t even include the list of people I have to thank for things that don’t fit in a basket. For meals, for help, for flowers and gifts. (Someone sent chocolate. That alone is proof that there are really good people in this world.) I haven’t written thank you notes yet; still another thing that just overwhelms me. I am so grateful but I don’t know how to say it. And I hate dwelling on the thought that I am grateful for your kindness when my son died. I don’t know if I can sit and write that for hours. It broke me just to collect and gather all these things and put them in a basket. This beautiful godawful basket about my son's beautiful godawful life.

Posted by Sara Joy at 8/25/2009 11:56 AM
Categories: Joel

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