Late afternoon sun streams through the sawdust covered window, and I realize with quiet relief that I'm ready to say goodbye.
Whether we like it or not, whether we embrace the concept or wrestle it to the ground, death brings change, and change brings new growth and exciting things.
My Dad and brothers have had a partnership in a business for many years and with the passing of one of my brothers, it has become necessary to clear out and move on from what was part of our lives since before my siblings and I were born.
An onerous task, clearing out decades of things that were waiting to be: tools waiting to sharpen saws, wood to turn, planks to shape into a project, parts waiting to be installed into machines that are no longer being made, the old wired dial up phone, my Grandfather's planer and tools he used as a building inspector, and some machinery that was customized and configured with belts and pulleys devised by my father and forefathers to get the job done.
Surrounded by history and memories of my past and my family's past, I help sort through dust covered items that I can only hope will make someone else happy. I come across things that I remember and find things that bring forward a story I had never heard before and am so grateful to listen to. "The darker pair of skis were ones that I bought for Mom," Dad says. "I ordered the bindings and attached them to hers, but the lighter pair I made from scratch", telling me how he steamed the wood to curve the ski tips and made the poles too.
One last time, I look out through that dusty window and see the ballpark I once played on, the swings now gone, and the desire to stop time washes over me like the ocean tide.
There is solace in knowing I have captured what matters most and I'll find a way to celebrate and preserve it. I embrace what will be, and patiently wait for inspiration to flow into my brain.
