Documenting our Life

I make decisions in multiple stages now instead of one fell swoop. I think it's a functionality of my fogged in brain. I can't always see how to get from point A to point B. But I can take one step away from point A while keeping point B in my sight lines. Eventually I manage to get to point B, even if it means side trips through points L, M, N, O and P. For instance:

A few people suggested that I should take pictures of Steve's belongings that I no longer wanted to keep but found difficult to release. I had to hear that suggestion many times before I could absorb the idea. Then, one day, while cleaning out the fridge I decided I needed to throw out Steve's hot sauces. I don't do spicy and every time I looked at them they hurt my heart more than they could ever hurt my tongue or stomach. So I photographed them and then placed them in the trash.

That was several months ago and I don't think I've managed to sort through anything of Steve's since.

Here's my confession. Right after Steve died I gave his clothes to my younger brother. My brother who likes to dress well but hasn't the resources to do it. He was so excited to have these clothes. To dress nice. And I was so happy to see that Steve's belongings were going to someone who could appreciate and use them. It felt good and right. But now, nearly a year later, I wish I had them back. I saved several pieces but there are many more I wish I had kept. Which is silly and stupid. I have no idea what I'd do with them. All I know is my heart calls out for them. But they reside in Hawaii. And it doesn't feel right to ask for them back when I know my brother is putting them to good use. Besides, postage from Hawaii is a real bitch.

So I'm trying something new. Actually, it isn't all that new. At Christmas I took pictures of Christmas ornaments that held meaning for Steve and I. I did it not because I'm getting rid of those things but because it brought me joy to tell the stories behind them. I'm thinking that if I take pictures of items that I want to separate from, along with pictures of items that I'm keeping that hold memories, maybe I can start the sorting process again. Maybe I can pick back up and start moving forward again. Cause I'm stuck. And getting stuck is one thing but staying stuck is something altogether different.

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These are three of Steve's hot sauces. I had already thrown a couple out before I took this picture and it hurt so much to do it that I sometimes think it would've been easier for me to simply drink them gone. Somehow taking pictures of these remaining three made throwing those two out earlier a little more bearable.

The Dave's Insanity sauce (far right) was a result from a challenge from Steve that a hot sauce hadn't been made that he considered "too hot". I bought Dave's Insanity planning on slowly stepping things up over the months with others I knew to be hotter. He tried one little drop from the bottle and it was the only time I ever saw my husband drink straight from the milk carton. It makes the game a little boring when you hit a home-run first time up to bat. It was defiantly worth it, though.

The Submission sauce (far left) was something we picked up on our one year wedding anniversary in New Orleans. We stumbled onto a store that had hot sauces floor to ceiling and the length of the store. Steve was in seventh heaven. We bought three but only the Submission sauce was hot enough to last this long. We had both agreed that when it was finally empty we'd go back to New Orleans, to that strange little shop with thousand of bottles, and pick up three more. Sometimes I think there are places in this world I may never return to because the memories of what else we wanted to do in that place are as thick as cobwebs. New Orleans is one of those places. Then again, what better place is there to go see ghosts?

This is Steve's convertible. All his life he wanted one. We saved hard for three years so we could walk onto the lot, write a check, and drive off. Somewhere I have pictures of the night we went to pick it up. I made the dealership put a big bow on it. They had it out front and center with the staff standing in a semi-circle waiting for us. Made him feel like a rock star. He loved this car. And I loved him in it.

I have been driving it ever since he died. Matter of fact, I've figured out that I need to sell one of the cars so I'm selling mine. (Eventually. I make decisions in multiple stages. Recall it?) Steve's car I plan to keep until I can put those black antique license plates on it. Then I plan to drive it some more.

This planter is just one of those silly married couple things. Steve loved birds. The six bird feeders out back prove that. He loved watching all the different types of birds come to visit the feeders. He loved watching the baby birds chirp and fluff themselves trying to get mama to feed them. He loved yelling "Birdie beat down!" whenever a bird fight broke out. So whenever I saw a bird item that wasn't too cheesy or too abstract - I'd buy it. Just like every time he saw a monkey he'd buy it. (Monkeys being the thing I collected.) I keep this planter on the front porch by the steps so that when I come or go I can look at it and think of Steve. And his love of all things feathered.