The Box

I finally did it. Tonight was round 2 of moving and packing. In so doing, some wonderful men--friends to both Adam and me--came to help load our gear. As certain things were packed, I felt bad having them move so much of Adam's stuff that I simply can't part with, but they moved it all without comment or complaint...even though I'm sure they were thinking, "She sure has A LOT of STUFF." I know I do. I'm a stuff person. I guess I'm just sentimental.

While moving lots of things from my basement, one of the men must've tried to move "the box" because right after people were walking out to their cars at the completion of their work on my move tonight, I gasped aloud and muttered. There was the box, out of the basement, out of its rightful space from down there for nearly 3 years. UGH. I knew I would have to go through it and just do it--FINALLY. But that stupid box has gotten to me every single time I have tried to go through it.

I told my mom about the box coming out from the basement. My mom helped nudge me along and we sat down in the garage and I worked on it. Bit by bit I looked through the books that Adam had had in his trunk. They were all old, rare medical books. Neat books with the sewn binding of old. They were a dentist's who went to Creighton who clearly had donated these books to the medical library. I should've written down his name but I didn't. Inside there was an old piece of binder paper that had what appeared to be this old dentist's notes. Beautifully written cursive throughout, it was fun to read (or try to read) his writing. Adam and I always wanted a library in our home one day, and more specifically, he wanted to have a collection of neat old medical books. I remember him telling me that the medical library was throwing these away and that was his intent with these books. They were a mangled mess though as I looked through them tonight. Binding ripped and not to be salvaged.

I got through the papers in the sturdy plastic zip lock bags. They were evidence bags from the police, just the way they presented Adam's things to me at the police station in La Vista. The papers were random things that were in his glovebox. Old ward directory with directions to an old babysitter's house with my scribbled writing. A map from our family Missouri camping trip to Branson and the Ozarks. A Michigan map from driving to MI for Christmas one year. A CD ROM with a computer game. A Wiggles DVD that we always used to joke and sing one particular song from. As I was sorting these papers and these things, that's when it got me. I would carefully take out each item and put it on the plastic zip lock. One of the items left behind a bunch of dried blood remains, as most of these things contained blood splatter and glass. I broke down and cried as my mom just sat quietly, knowing full well that I needed to do this. Then I came to Justin's shoes. In their own ziplock, I didn't need to take them out. They will always haunt me. They'll always make me wonder if the impact was so great that his shoes came off of his feet. Picturing my baby walking on Harrison barefooted. Those shoes will always be a reminder of what little 8 year old Justin saw. Maybe they'll always force from me a different sense of compassion for him, for he was witness to something that no human should have to see. Especially a child.

I bawled and continued with my task. I found a big ziplock full of pens. Adam had a million pens in the door of his car, he liked the pens he was given from various vendors. One of the vendors that was out in full force for a time happened to be Viagra. Adam came home with some of the funniest things from that company. I think the laws have changed in how drug companies can market to doctors and medical personnel, and he obtained these items long before that law took effect. As I was cleaning today, I found a Viagra keychain that was mixed in with Adam's electronic cords and wires. I started to laugh and tossed it to my mom who was working near me in the basement. She said, "What IS it?" Knowing that I already had other favorite Viagra imprinted things around my house, she asked if this was the penis pen that I had told her about. No. That pen will always live in infamy. It was quite nifty and I'm sad it broke. Adam said that thing would be worth money one day since the law changed, no longer to have Viagra imprinted on such things. I wish I still had it. Anyway, so she discovered that in this keychain was a compartment to store a couple of diamond-shaped Viagra tablets. So funny. And it had a little blue light on the end of it.

Why do I say this? Well, because as I was bawling and going over the nasty gruesome of this box, I spotted two different Viagra pens in the pen-grouped ziplock. One was made to have a 50 mg amount stamp on it and another was in pieces. This made us crack up. I laughed and laughed. Oh Adam and his pens.

What a conflict of emotions. It is par for the course of moving out of this house. It has been more exhausting than I can put in to words and I realize how grateful I am to have my mom as my mother. No one else could do what she is doing (and has done) to help my little family. And I'm grateful for my amazing dad who is holding down the fort while she is away. In addition, I'm grateful for a good ward family who teaches me of Christ-like service and friendship. My mom commented during this trip how I have my ward family who really is like my family. She also mentioned how sad I would be if any of them moved away, which I would. But I am grateful to have the gospel of Jesus Christ in my life and in the life on my family. His gospel is organized, simple, and wonderfully eternally life changing. It brings me joy through my tears, peace when I need comfort, and hope for my future. Through Him all will be made right and true.