Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can pinpoint the moment an obsession begins. I visited with my friend’s parents a few years back, sharing a cup of tea and catching up. There were the usual updates but one in particular piqued my interest. Their dear friend had recently passed, and they were awaiting the arrival of his black box to help “sort” out his affairs.
“Wait, what?” This was the first I’d heard of a black box of this nature! I’ve lost important people in my life and there was never a black box to sort through. My mind was racing, and I had to know more. Attempting a balance between respect and curiosity, my barrage of questions began. What did this black box look like? What was inside? Was it truly black? How big was it? Were there family secrets carefully folded up inside?
I was expecting this box to be filled with love. Turns out, its contents were all of the legal variety- deeds, titles, bank statements, wills and all the rest. Logically this made perfect sense, but emotionally it felt like a missed opportunity. Here was a final chance to safe keep “gifts” of love and gratitude. The fact that it wasn’t was the very moment I needed my very own black box.
I could not shake this concept. It’s said, “Every girl needs a little black dress.” I think we all need a little black box as well. Some may think this a morbid concept, but I believe this may be the greatest idea of all. My black box will not just keep important legal papers, but pieces of my heart as well.
I’m sure you all know how much letter writing means to me. What you do not know is every single time I’ve helped clean out a loved one’s home who has passed away, I hope to find a letter they’ve left for me. I have yet to find one, but I want my loved ones to find one. My black box will keep them safe so they will have my words forever at their fingertips whenever they need them.
As you can tell, I’ve been giving this whole thing a bunch of thought. In thinking it through, I’ve decided to be cremated, final answer. I love flowers, trees and spending time in my garden, but I am just too claustrophobic to be placed in a box/coffin. Yet, I also don’t really desire to sit on one shelf collecting dust. My solution is if my loved ones will find comfort in taking a bit of me with them or others want to sprinkle me in their garden… why I’d be more than delighted.
To this end, like a squirrel gathering nuts for the winter, I am collecting small unique antique jars, bottles and tins. I envision a place at my funeral where you can choose a vessel and take me “to go.” Keep me beside your favorite chair so you can chat, and I will listen. This way, once again, I’ll never be too far away.
Of course to carry this whole thing out I needed to find the perfect black box. I spent the last few years on and off searching many box options; fire boxes, plastic tubs and even decorative, sleek, handled and locked boxes. And yes indeed, it is black. My plan is to paint bright colored flowers on it, but, I have time for that. I pray..
pondering and purging,
A Little Thing You Should Know: Sadly many of my friends are saying goodbye to loved ones. It’s our age I am afraid and part of the circle of life. With this comes cleaning and sorting out their homes as well. It is a grueling and overwhelming task. Every single item demands a decision. Does this have emotional or monetary value? Do we pass it onto someone, sell, donate or dispose? Then it’s sorting into the proper bag or box for endless trips to the dumpster or donation center.
Either end involves grueling hours of placing a value on items deemed valuable by our gone loved ones. Items once gifts from their loved ones. Many were purchased with their hard-earned money. And some from the generations that died before them they themselves felt too important to throw out. Each one is a thing, just a thing, but each one must be handled. When the task is complete, not only is the home empty of things, but so too is your physical, mental and emotional state.
I love things, but I do not want my loved ones to endure this process so have begun the “Big Purge”. Letters, trinkets, gizmos, pictures, memorabilia once important enough for me to move around with me, now I am eager to dispose of.
Hey, here’s a thought?! Maybe at my funeral next to all the vessels there could be a table of my “things” as well.