The Basement Excavation: Facing Grief and Finding Treasure

The Basement Excavation—Day #17

So far I’ve been faithful to my commitment to go through two boxes each day. There is a growing stack of empty boxes in one corner. I hope that empty stack continues to grow but not every box gets thrown. Though clearing is the ultimate goal, throwing it all out is not the immediate goal. The idea is to go through everything, taking the time to painstakingly acknowledge all of it and get a grip on the reality of what IT really is.

In some cases, I’ve been able to throw a whole box right away. I am grateful for those easy ones, where the choice is obvious. In others, I’ve opened, looked through a few things and said, “Okay, I’m not ready for that one until later.” This is an acceptable response but I know eventually I will have to deal with those too. And then there have been those moments of profound encounter with something deep within.

Case #1: A gift from Dad

Two weeks ago, on a Saturday, I was leading a writing workshop on journaling. As part of my presentation I told those who came about what I had learned from my dad about the Lord’s Prayer. I was telling them how he used to encourage people to use the Lord’s Prayer to pray about specific things in their life. The next day I am down in the basement. I open a box and sitting right on top is the old Lutheran Standard article which my dad wrote about just that. With tears of gratitude I grabbed the article, and closed the rest of the box (for now). It was if Dad was encouraging me, letting me know he was happy to share this gift with me. I scanned it into my computer for future reference and to save it in new way. I have no idea what will happened to that article in the next generation but by then I will have shared it with many and the ripples will be enough inheritance to share.

Case #2: Encountering Hans 15 years later

Just a few days ago, I had a really busy day but in the free hour that I had I decided to suck it up and head down to do a few boxes. I saw an unmarked box in the middle of the room and wanted to have an idea what was in it. Initially unreachable, I climbed and squeezed in to where I could get a look. I opened the box and there was Hans’ stuff. As the tears started to form, I sifted through the random collection of junk. I have begun to notice that the more ridiculous the item, the more it triggers my grief. Why? Because the ridiculous stuff, the stuff that holds no intrinsic value is there only because my son cared about it. This box of apparent nothingness is classic Hans. And yet we still have to let go of most of it. Letting go brings a new wellspring of grief…that very really emotion as we experience the physical separation once again. I can’t express enough how physical grief really is.

Initially I find it odd and unsettling that such a box of junk can mean so much to me but there it is. Without the physical connection to my son, these stupid little things taking up space clearly give me a sudden material connection to the reality of my sons’ life before and now.

The sudden desire to speak to him, to see him in the flesh again is unbearable and the tears are unstoppable. This is the part of de-cluttering that takes more than determination and a good self-help book to conquer. This takes a breath and a prayer and some emotional support. Here I must stand with the grief, allow the tears and honor the pain as well as the joy. I may have to take a couple days to process before I am ready to let go. I may need to bring my husband alongside for this part of the journey. And even so, there is hope just in the fact that I am able to choose this work.