Posted by Frank Maddlone on October 26, 1998 at 18:19:54:
My entry into this forum is the dedication that was read at my mother's funeral this past February. May it serve you all in whatever capacity you wish for it to be. Live well...
In Memoriam
Trinkets.
There are always lots of trinkets.
A statue here; a bauble there. A stack of papers; a lump of clothing. Some are ugly; some are nondescript; some are delicately winsome and sublime.
They are the mementos representing some deep emotional hunger driven by unknown passions, needs, fears.
Trinkets.
I cannot help but sense a story within these abandoned pieces;
Short, silent lessons depicting instances rich with experience and wisdom.
A consequence of aging has brought me to this moment in time, where I stand at the crossroads of a life long-lived, yet seldom praised. I'm now faced with the task of writing the coda to this symphony, though I was seldom privy to its music.
But, no mind. There are still those trinkets. Hundreds of little things that are like snippets in time, giving life to flesh and bone - possessing the power to attract and entertain.
I scurry about trying to find the right place for each item. Not one piece can be made to suffer the indignities of abandonment. Each must find a home; each must find a resting place in which to begin a new phase of life. Trash or treasure, their fate will be decided with little thought as to future consequences. They all need to be freed from the loss and turmoil of the moment.
As each possession is united with its counterpart, I cannot help but experience the emotional ties each one carries in its form. The shape, the smell, the aging signs, its origin - all work together to lure my subconscious into another time and place, where childhood antics and maternal apprehensions still thrive, as if each were encapsulated within a plastic snow sphere for me to shake and watch whenever the mood struck me.
So many memories; so many fears; so many decisions left unchecked. So many trinkets.
As the days pass, I learn how to collect these mental images, placing each within it's own category - marking each group as "bad", or "good", or "to be kept", or "to be given away". It's good to spend the time sorting these trinkets. The cleansing of both house and spirit make room for other lives, other experiences, other chances. In the end, I'll be left with those things that will bring soft pleasures into my life. In the end, I'll be left with goodness in my life. In the end, that is exactly what she would have wanted. Trinkets. I now see the wisdom of choice.