unopened

 

It sits there, untouched, taped shut, collecting dust.  The remnants of bitter-sweet memories.  Ill-timed news today, brought me back here.  To this closed off "corner of my heart".  I look up at that box and consider opening it.  It's the emotional release, I think, that compels me.  I ache for the familiarness of mourning, of letting go, of something resembling full closure. 

Part one of said-closure: my wedding band is at the bottom of a lake, my wedding dress re-used, I secretly hope, as some freak Halloween costume gone horribly well in its spookiness.

Part two of said-closure:  a letter never sent.  Written mostly for me.

Part three of said-closure:  time.

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I always hesitate to post these things but  feel like someone out there may benefit from reading it.  From feeling less alone in her/his own particular journey.  And, yes, that someone could very well be me. So I accept the vulnerability and hit "publish".