I don’t know how to start this one off, Honey.

To be honest, I’m afraid this letter isn’t really for you this time.

I was talking to my Dad this morning, and he mentioned that my last post had some… unintended consequences. Basically, it looked like I was complaining about the job being done on cleaning out the house.

Look, I need to clean house; not as any sort of catharsis from having lost you (although there is that), but because the house is – was – no, still is – full of all manner of stuff we’ll never deal with without outside influence. And Jan does a wonderful job of showing me what she’s found, and giving me the opportunity to determine what to do with it.

So when he told me I’d upset her by writing about those badges (and Erin’s efforts at recovering them from the dumpster – honestly, that was the real story here), I was just sick about it. I’m trying to keep up with this blog – writing something every day – but I have to address this and apologize, or I literally can’t move on to other topics.

I had no intention of upsetting anyone with this post. I was just glad that they had been found. Like I said at the time, it’s not like these things are truly needed – we as humans don’t need any souvenirs from our life, especially once it’s over. It’s just… nice to hold onto these things for now. Just to see them and remember, “yeah, I made that back in college (or whenever – the ones Rachel made were some time later, obviously, since they mention Daniel) – wasn’t I a snarky kid back then?”

Had they been thrown out, and had nothing been said to me, it probably would never have crossed my mind about them again. It was just the reminder that came at the moment, and Erin’s willingness to get in there and find them, that made it – and them – special, and worthy of comment.

If it would lighten the mood, we at least know of one pair of your pants that will get a decent home, now – Erin had to change into one of yours after trudging around in the slush that accumulated atop the pile over the weekend. They fit her just fine, but I don’t think she’ll get used to the cut of them, accustomed as she is to her jeans and sweats.

Again, keep in mind that she offered to look for these, I didn’t ask her to. My reaction was more of a ‘well, that’s how it goes, I guess… wait, you think you know where they are? You want to retrieve them? Well, okay, let’s do this,’ followed by the joy of rediscovering them – and the disappointment of damaging several by trying to clean them off. Really, the effort was what meant something about them.

Look, I’ve lost artwork in this house already. I used to have the BASIC logo on college-era newsletters somewhere, but as far as I know, they’re nowhere to be found. If they weren’t in the basement, I doubt they’re anywhere. Stuff gets lost over time.

It’s just… I was glad to see these again. I don’t know how or why I missed these the first time around, but that’s why I try to stick around while we’re going through stuff at this point – and why I get Daniel involved when we’re going through his paperwork. It’s hard to tell what might be important when it’s in the midst of a lot of unimportant stuff. That’s absolutely no reflection on Jan’s efforts, and I want to apologize to her if it came off that way. I really appreciate what she does, I’m thrilled – in my own sad way – to see space open up in the house. I just need to be careful to note what goes out the door.

I’ll be storing these with the rest of my memorabilia now, both for what they meant when I put them together, and for the effort in attempting to retrieve and preserve them. They have twice the meaning now as anything else, just for all that.

So thank you, Erin, for doing this, unbidden. And thank you, Jan, for all you’ve done. I really do need that kick in the pants to get things organized. Please forgive me if I spoke intemperately; I was just happy to have the memories back.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

2 thoughts on “Apologia

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