Moment of Reflection

Chapter 7

I stood in the garage, sorting through more of my father's things. He and I had the same mindset on things; if you didn't use it more than three times, then you didn't need it. So what he had was used.

After I told my mother I would go through his things, she must have finished packing his things into the boxes before bringing them out here. Dad and I never really used the garage for storing vehicles overnight. It was always used as more of a workshop.

Somehow, she managed to get everything of his from the house, into about seven large boxes. Which quite frankly surprised me in two ways. He wasn't one to have that much stuff, yet I didn't know how she managed to fit it all into only seven boxes. Both ways contradicted each other, but things tend to do that a lot in my life.

As I began to sort through the boxes one by one, I couldn't help but to allow my mind to wander.

I always found it hard to fit in a crowd in High School. I tended to call myself a 'floater', I have many 'groups' of friends that I float around. I socialize a lot at school, but I am very picky when it comes to making friends. I was known, but I seemed to be invisible. I was my own person.

I didn't do any sports anymore, I didn't do anything 'art' related, I could barely draw a sun. I took many hands on courses, not within the arts or home economics fields, but with welding, cars, and woodworking. I learned the best that way.

What scared me though, was that I didn't know what I was going to do out of high school. So many people had their colleges picked out and knew what they were majoring in, whereas I didn't even know what I wanted to do. Audrey was becoming a doctor, I didn't know what Alek was doing, but that didn't matter to me. I didn't care for him.

I tried to push the thoughts of my future away, focusing on the task at hand. My dad's belongings.

In one of the boxes there were many photo albums and picture frames. Many things he had hanging on the walls.

As I pulled out the picture frames, part of me was angered with the fact that my mother was pictured in some of these and she still took them down. We always took family pictures every year, despite her lack of love towards me, she would only act like she did for my father's sake.

I picked out my favorite frames with my father and I, setting them aside on a different work bench. I knew there were good pictures in the photo albums, so I pulled out the three large books, setting next to the frames.

I knew he wouldn't want me to get rid of what pictures were left in the box, so I simply closed the box and put it in one of the corners of the garage, where all of the other miscellaneous boxes sat collecting dust.

Moving on to the next box, I noticed my mother had tossed some of his clothes in. She didn't hesitate in filling the box, but she did it very lazily. She seemed to have dedicated two boxes for all of his clothes.

I cleared out a large enough space on the workbench, dumping out the contents of the boxes then placing them on the floor.

As I sorted through his clothes, I took a bit of time, trying to decide if it was going to be kept or discarded.

I didn't want to hoard all of his things, because I knew it wasn't healthy. Audrey told me to focus on what meant the most to me. Although I was attached to everything in one way or another, I knew it was for the best. Not to mention, my dad wouldn't want me dwelling on his passing.

After each article of clothing I decided to keep, I folded them and placed said item into the bottom of one of the boxes. Once I had about three of his shirts, one of his flannels, and a sweatshirt of his, I decided it would be best to donate the rest of the clothing.