A post by my husband, Nick, reflecting on our moving process
A $12 K-Mart Fishing Pole.
How can something like this, a simple plastic rod & reel, hold such a power over me?
As many of you know, Kathi and I have sold our home that we bought 10 years ago and are getting ready to relocate. I’m grateful for the home and I’m grateful for all the memories we have made here. But I will admit that moving is sure an emotional process.
For those of you who don’t know, my father passed away in 2006 from Lou Gherig’s Disease, only five short months after Kathi and I were married. In the mindset I was in at that time, I wasn’t ready to let go of things. I threw out and donated a lot from his home, but so many things made it into boxes, where I told myself while my cheeks were still stained with tears I would deal with it later.
And there, in my basement, for 10 years these things have sat, boxed and unopened. A constant reminder in the back of my mind of the pain of loss. Boxes I saw when I walked into my house from the garage and pulled at me.
One of those things in these boxes were these two fishing poles.
Fishing, the quintessential father / son activity.
When I held that fishing rod, all the emotions and senses come flooding back to me.
I remember the feel of the wriggly worms we would buy at this little tackle store in Vernon.
I remember the smell of the dirt and the plastic container those worms came in.
I remember my dad showing me how to cast, his arm going back and then forward in a smooth motion, while I struggled to repeat it.
I remember catching these little fish from Salter Pond in Manchester.
I remember us actually bringing those fish home, filleting them, and frying them in the pan with butter (I don’t think we were actually supposed to do that).
And mostly, I just remember sitting with him on the side of the pond, talking, laughing, learning, and him being there for me.
The fishing pole is just one of hundreds of items I had in my basement of both my father, and then later my mother; who passed away three months before Landon was born in 2012. My dad’s bicycle, where I used to sit on the back. My mom’s broken mixer, where she baked every birthday cake for me and filled our home with the smells of meals.
In this moving process, I knew I had to finally open those boxes, and thus open those memories back along with those boxes. And man, has it been emotional. I have cried, I have laughed. But maybe most of all I have just processed, allowing each item to bring back the memories to me, and then placing them in a box for Goodwill, ready to let them go and leave myself with just the memories (and maybe a few pictures of the objects).
Everything we own and have accumulated has been reduced to a 16’x8’x8′ pod, and I’m really great with that. It feels… freeing.
I love and miss my mom & dad every day as much as I did the day I lost them. And I’m grateful I get to take those experiences and memories with me wherever I go in life.
When we get to our new home, I will buy some $15 Amazon.com fishing poles, and then take Landon and Kiersten fishing also.
And just enjoy the day, and smile in my own memories.