Chapter 2 Pocket the Change: Part 3

After a while my eyes began to hurt and the tears stopped falling. I had long ago put the dishes I had clung to so childishly aside. I wanted to close my eyes and forget everything, but I looked around and decided to finish cleaning first.

Once I was done I decided I was too tired to go up to my room, so I went to sleep on the couches. Then I noticed they were gone. Aunt Bethany must have sold them already. I began noting all the things that were missing in the house. Furniture, paintings even some light fixtures. It was the little things being gone that hurt the most. I felt something in my chest disappear, leaving a giant, aching gulf. I hated this feeling. My eyes started to heat up but I ignored it as I trudged my way to my bedroom, laziness didn't win this round, since I didn't wanna sleep on the floor.

The next morning I could hear the birds chirping merrily, as if to mock me. They must have been gathering to go south. Good riddance, I don't wanna deal with them anymore. I feel so childish. I got up and dressed for the day and headed downstairs for something to munch. When I reached the kitchen I felt my stomach turn at the sight of the eggs my aunt was making. I looked around and spotted an apple. I'll eat that instead.

"Aunt Bethany I don't want any eggs." 

She nodded and said: "You don't have to call me aunt, just Bethany is fine."

"Bethany." It felt weird, she was my legal guardian and way older, but wanted me to call her Bethany? Whatever, I'm getting too worked up over a stupid name. I got the apple and returned to my room, determined to finish up cleaning it today.

After I ate the apple I got down to business. I felt a little relieved. It hurt to see the things around the house disappearing, but it also meant those things wouldn't be a constant reminder of their death. I was torn between many feelings, all of them fighting for dominance over my heart which was like an erupted volcano. Depression seemed to be the strongest. 

I should stop thinking too deeply about this. I just keep putting it off, but it's so confusing and painful.

I packed away the stuff I would keep into boxes neatly, hopefully they stay that way. The junk I put in a bunch of trash bags to be given away or thrown out respectively. After I was done the only things left in my room was the furniture and the everyday things like clothes. Soon all the furniture would be gone, too. I don't really feel sad about this point. My room was basically a motley of random stuff, mostly because I broke them a lot. Don't ask why, I don't even know how. 

I went downstairs with the boxes and bags and placed them in the front room by the door. I looked over them to make sure everything was in order. Satisfied I went into the kitchen to get a drink. When I entered I saw aunt Bethany on the phone discussing the terms on something, probably some of the expensive furniture or the different─strange─things my father and mother owned. I'm not sure why they bought them in the first place, but hey, I'm not one to judge people for their hobbies, let alone my own parents.

But I do draw the line on teaching a five year old how to cheat at cards. That one is too much. Sorry Mom, Dad, you were wrong.

Speaking of cards, my dad had a collection of very rare ones, which I'm keeping. They've been appraised and are worth a lot. But that's not the only reason I'm keeping them, I remember when he first showed them to me. I was only twelve, old enough to be responsible but not old enough to understand the "adult" conversations. Dad and Mom had just come home from a trip to France or something, and I had stayed with the next door neighbors, who we were close with. 

When they picked me up they said they had a surprise, and showed me this card collection, saying it was for me when I grew up and they couldn't take care of me anymore. I'm still not sure what they were implying then, but now it just seems like a prelude to their death. It also feels like they promised, to take care of me always, even if they died. So I'm keeping the card collection.

Grief is strange. There are times when you feel comfort in the very fact that they're gone, but were there, and are now in a better place. But grief is a selfish emotion. We are not worried about the people who left when we grieve, we are sad that they aren't with us now that they are gone. Although it's that way, grief is also a selfless emotion. Because you would never grieve for someone if you only loved yourself. Nor could grieve someone you did not love or like in some way.

I walked back upstairs and got my wallet out, checking to see how much I have. Not too much, but enough for a nice bouquet. I got ready to go out, and left on my bike. I felt the urge to visit.

Along the way I stopped at a small flower shop and bought several white lilies. I didn't know what flowers were appropriate so I had settled on lilies. The lady at the register had said I gave her too much money, but I told her to keep the change.

When I stopped at my destination, it didn't take me long to find what I was looking for. Their gravestones.

Here lies Alastair Decelles, loving father and husband.

Here lies May Decelles, loving mother and wife.

I placed the lilies on their graves, and grieved, in peaceful silence. 

A random thought crossed my mind. When you say "keep the change," isn't it just another way of saying "pocket the change"?

It looks as though I should "pocket" this change in my life.