Today marks the five month mark since you left us. It is impossibly hard to imagine that we have gone nearly half a full year without your sparkle and panache in our lives.
Coincidentally enough, I am writing to you today from my laptop sitting on top of a moving box in our mother's home, on the day that we pack up the house that you shared with her in Savannah in preparation for what, I can only hope, will be a much needed bright new future for her in Cleveland.
Vince and I started the journey down here yesterday evening, in an adventure that took us about 45 more minutes to complete than necessary due to some wrong turns, seedy neighborhoods of middle Georgia, and one very stubborn train impeding our progress. He had argued before we left that we should take the straight and narrow path through Atlanta; that this route would surely get us there quicker. Fortunately, I was driving so I set the course on my GPS and off we went on back road adventure. Though the route said that we should arrive at our destination within five hours, it did not take into account that, even with a GPS guiding the way, I had little to no sense of direction and we soon found ourselves weaving through small side streets in some "questionable" neighborhoods with some even more "questionable" residents. We did however, marvel at how no matter how uninhabited or economically strained these small backwoods town were that everyone of them had a Dollar General. We were still making good time when we hit a road block in the small town of Sandersville, shortly after Vince had pointed out the fact that this must have been a more "well-off" town due to it's grand Family Dollar, when a train stopped, dead in it's tracks, lay between us and the road to Savannah. My determination to beat the GPS time of arrival and my impatience won over and we quickly found ourselves trying desperately to find a way around the train. When, after 25 minutes of 'site-seeing' the local scenery of dark alleys, some beautifully challenged homes, and some locals carrying some adult beverages in paper bags, we considered defeat. After about 5 more minutes of waiting for the train to move, we discovered that all of the cars that were pulling up behind us were taking a hidden left turn instead of waiting, curious, we followed one of these vehicles and discovered that less than 12 feet from where we were sitting was a bridge going over the train tracks...boy did we fill stupid. We laughed at how unintelligent we were and I thought of all of the times that we had similar experiences together and how you were probably laughing right along with us. We indeed took the road less traveled.
When we arrived at mom's house, around midnight, we both decided to go quickly to bed for some much needed sleep. Vince took the couch and I took the stairs to your bedroom, unsure of what to expect. Brandie came over last weekend and packed up your room for mom, unable to do it herself. Her and Garrett took all of your clothes and some other miscellaneous items to the local Goodwill in hopes that some girl getting ready for back to school clothes could make good use of your uniforms. Your room up to this point had remained untouched, a shrine of sorts to the last time that you inhabited it. The scene that I arrived on was much different with boxes scattering the room and bare walls where your posters and pictures had once hung.Your closets were empty, with only a few lone hangers still in place. Deflated and a little relief was what first came over me. I didn't dwell on it long and quickly found my head on your pillow.While unloading the shed today, of the thousands of Christmas decorations that mom has collected over the years, I was remembering the time that you went out there to get something, perhaps for the beach, and got stung by quite a few yellow jackets. They came up from the ground and surprised you. Mom called me laughing and told me of the story and continued laughing while she descried how swollen you had gotten from the stings. She gave you some Benedryl to help....
While I feel like her moving is a finality of your being gone, I am hopeful for her future. I can only hope that our family can piece itself back together; that we can find peace in a tragic year and learn to accept each other once again. Your 'other' room will be gone but I can hope that she will find a more permanent room in her heart for you and learn that you aren't found in 'things' but more in the memories of you. I write this blog for precisely that reason.
I've heard a lot about how God is 'testing us' and would never give us more than what we can handle, I guess this year has made us the strongest family ever, something that I have felt in my heart for my entire life. While I will miss Savannah as a place I set roots and much of our family followed, its nice to see mom take the leap of faith, it gives me hope for us yet.
I will miss the pictures on your wall, the bulletin board filled with sentiments from your friends, and the amazing treasures I would consistently find in your room on visits, I know that I know you and I will never forget the amazing person that you were. This has given us, as a family, a new beginning of sorts, and you will be with us every step of the way. So while I know that mom is moving out I know that we will never 'move on' from our loss of you, I know that you fill every moment of our movements through life...
