De-Decorating

After so long a time being involved with saying goodbye to Dad, I no longer have any desire to look at Christmas lights or think about the season now past. Normally I wait until New Year's Day to take down the lights and tree and tuck away the nativity set. But today, I begin the process, determined to go as far as my energy will allow.

I ask Drew to bring up the packing boxes from the storage unit, figuring that I should at least be able to remove the ornaments from the boughs of the tree and get them wrapped and settled in their individual spots in the plastic bin. I take my time, carefully inspecting each item before wrapping it up for next year's celebration.

I can't help but think next year is bound to be better than this year! Surely next year I will enjoy a reprieve from health issues not to mention losses. Slowly I putter with other decorations, getting them safely packed in the blue tub, and making sure each figure from the nativity returns to its proper place in the styrofoam case.

I wander about the place, discovering some little delightful decor here and there, delivering it to the proper bin or tub, making sure I have not forgotten anything, remembering when I first acquired the item and any stories about its intersection with our traditions and celebrations.

I realize that over the next weeks and months, Mom will be doing the same thing with Dad's stuff, finding the right place for each item, making sure they will be of use for the next person, remembering what Dad did with it, how he got it, what it meant to him.

One of the most integral parts of life connected with Dad is his library, already spoken for by my sister Deb who has a room and shelving ready and waiting. Dad had been telling her which books were of value, which to dispose of. She will likely discover which he used the most by his underlining and marginalia.

We learned our love of books from Mom, who read to us every evening when we were young. I still remember many of them like Pat the Bunny, Mr. Moggs Dogs, The Pokey Little Puppy, and the entire Sugar Creek Gang series. We learned to hold writing up to the rule of Scripture from Dad, to analyze and understand, to ask questions from every angle, to hold on to that which is sound.

I finish collecting everything and ask Drew to return the bins to the storage unit, knowing that next year I will again enjoy their lights and warm joy. I know with Dad there will come a time when I will once again enjoy his company and conversation sans pain and sorrow. Until then, I will have to be patient.