Our family, Juan, Me, Julian and Max would always go somewhere on the weekends. Maybe hiking, maybe sledding, sometimes we would explore cemeteries, to see ghost according to him. Always exploring, always having fun. Today, well, I put his things away. Something that should have been done a while ago, but I’m doing today.
Today, I put Juan’s things away. Not all of them, but most of them. Some were stuff he had left behind before he deployed other were things that he had in Iraq. His things from Iraq still smell of him, of Mosul, of Army. I smelled his shirts. I smelled his BDU caps. This brought the most painful and joyful memories.
Juan would like for me to give him a shoulder massage after dinner. I would lean forward and smell his hair, or least what was left of it. I would breathe him in, loving him, like it was the first day and my last. These feelings were intensified after 9/11. Never take anything for granted, was what I thought.
Juan has so many things to put away. Where do I put them? This household is 80% Juan. From the couches he chose, to the mug that bears his name. What do I put up and what do I keep? I know there are no answers for my questions and this is my burden and I need to deal with this as I deal with everything else in my life. But what I do know, is that I will not get rid of anything, even if it means I become a pack rat. Of course, my dear husband would not agree on this, but I think he is going to cut me some slack.
As I put things away, I find love letters. Letters from the beginning of our relationship till the end. How our love changed and grew. I find tokens that he kept with him. Religious items that I didn’t know he owned. I find pictures of us, some with tape; I’m guessing these were taped up on the wall or his vehicle. Then I come across his boots. They bare his name and his blood type. Maybe to someone else, this would scare them. Not me, not an Infantry soldier’s wife.
I put away his caps, his jeans, socks and even his Ron Jeremy T-shirt that he loved so much. I put away his hiking boots. He loved to hike. As I folded his clothes, I felt him, I saw him. Then, I wonder, will my boys fill these clothes and these shoes? I hope and dream that they will. I worry. How will I do this on my own? They miss their father. I’m not as much fun as he was. I want to be strong. I want to be stern. I want to be loving. I want to bring up strong men of honor, courage and duty. Juan, as I put your things away, please stay with me, give me strength as I put your things away.
I love you Juan