My dad is ill, very ill. And that Sunday in the ICU, it didn't feel like he would get a whole lot better. Mom was asked about life support preferences, the big ones. Did you know there are varying degrees of life support? I didn't, not until now. My brother and sister in law flew in from Tennessee. We prayed. We held dad's swollen hand, talking to him and hoping he heard our secrets. And we cried. I hit every stage of grief within that week, struggling between tense, gut-wrenching sadness and comfort in the stalwart knowledge that families can be together for ever. And it's not just a song, it is truth.
Fast forward a week and one day later. 8 days and many miracles later, I sat here at my desk checking facebook and feeling a whole lot better about things. We are not out of the woods, and he is still a very sick man. But maybe, just maybe, I can let this knot in my stomach go, even if just a little bit. A friend of mine posted something intriguing on facebook today, something that caught and kept my attention for a good portion of time. She introduced me to The Burning House, a blog with a collection of pictures of the items people would take if their house were burning and they had only minutes to condense their most important posessions to a small number of items they could carry in their arms. I found it so interesting to see the things that people would take. There were an infinite number of Macbooks and hipster sunglasses, lighters, sentimental stuffed animals of one breed or another, pets, family and other minutiae that we, as everyday people, find terribly important. It got me thinking about my minutiae, and what I would take. So I started to take stock.
I wasn't surprised to find that after some digging, most of my items relate to family, considering our current situation. Of course, my list now is vastly different than what it would have been had I done this five years ago. Ten years ago.
Here is my pic:
1. A blue sign painted for me by my brother. It reminds me that it is all worth it.
2. My 20 yr old scriptures and my scripture journal of inspiration and revelation.
3. A blue ceramic box made for me by my mom when I was just a little one. The inscription on the bottom reads "To my favorite little girl! Love, Mom Dec 1990"
4. A handcrafted wooden sign made by my dad in 2006. It reads "A good heart and good mind are a formidable combination. -N. Mandela"
5. Letters, a postcard, and a copy of The Book of Mormon with his testimony in it from my brother while on his mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
6. A mug I made in 7th grade. It's a duck, and reminds me that we are ever changing.
7. A picture of my dad and I, circa 1987.
8. My journal from Spain, because it reminds me where I've been in life. It was a gift from my parents.
9. My tin Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox filled with notes and pictures from my school days.
10. My copy of a women's healthcare parity bill I co-wrote for the 2002 General Session of the Utah State Legislature
11. My favorites from my postcard collection.
Everything else can be replaced, including my birth certificate and such. But these things, these things are irreplaceable. While collecting them, I realized something very important.
I've already been taking things from my own figurative "burning house", stockpiling them like a mad woman.
Except my burning house was not bricks and mortar, it was my perceived shortened relationship with my best guy friend. That house has felt like it's been burning for a long time through this illness, and just when I thought we were at the end of his mortal existence, I was taking what I could from our relationship to make sure I had nuggets of goodness to last me until I would see him again. I realized that I have been going over our memories in my head for a long time now. Memories of when I was a kid, his jokes, the time the two of us went to LA all by ourselves, acted like idiots on Hollywood Boulevard, the time he taught me how to gamble at the tables in Vegas at 19 and how he threatened me with my life if I told mom. How he used to sing to me every.single.night no matter how tired he was when I was little. The bracelet I have with his name on it. The hours he spent in the shop, insisting that I learn how to change my own brakes and belts because "independent girls need skills".
Fortunately, all of my most treasured items from this burning house are not tangible. The same goes for my feelings and thoughts about my mom and brother. We are a family built on what matters, not the things in life which can be lost or misplaced. We are a family who have experienced each other and our relationships in a way that will bond us forever, and for this I will forever be grateful.
Stuff doesn't matter. Turns out the guy was right.
What would you take??
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