A Paper Trail

Feb. 20th

Today I was looking through a pile of papers which I had put aside for sorting a few months ago (paper management is not my strong point). I was hoping to find a particular document. I never did. Instead, I had to stop and think about every K.B.-related item in the stack. On the top was the program for her funeral with its various inserts; I had tucked into it the program from her and Chris’ wedding.

I had so treasured that beautiful silvery wedding program with the rose and the tree images that I had kept it on my night table since May 25^th and had been using it as a bookmark. After her funeral, I put both programs together and placed them on top of the other papers I needed to make decisions about.

So where should these texts, which represent indescribable joy and crushing heartbreak, go? How often will I want to look at them? Or perhaps I should separate them, hiding the funeral program somewhere I am unlikely to come across it very often but keeping the wedding program close to hand.

I kept looking through the pile, past Christmas cards we had received this year. Then I came across the thank-you card from K.B. and Chris for the wedding gift we had given them, a movie-style popcorn machine. She expressed not only thanks but also the hope that we would go over and watch movies with them while munching popcorn made in our gift. That hadn’t happened yet; another one of those things we thought we had plenty of time to do.

The envelope for the card was there, too, with the address of the house she and Chris had moved into in the summer, the old house she had loved so much. Along with the envelope was the memory of being so impressed by her efficiency in getting her thank-you cards out so quickly!

It was the first time I had seen something with her handwriting on it since January 10^th.

Just a little ways below that card and envelope was the thank-you card for what I given her at the shower and for hosting the shower. She thanked me for a wooden carving board. It’s odd; I had completely forgotten what I had given her on that occasion. My main memory of that May afternoon had been the laughter and smiles all around as we celebrated K.B.’s and Chris’ upcoming nuptials. Chris’ sister brought a vase full of roses from Chris for K.B. Each rose had a label tied to it describing something Chris loved about K.B.

So what did I decide to do with these materials? Nothing. I ascertained that the document I was looking for was not in the pile, put everything back down, and walked away. Decisions can wait.