My baggage

I've been thinking more about what I wrote in my previous post about my baggage, the suitcase I can choose to open or not. I know there are times when I can't think about my daughter at all, almost any memory causes pain. But I don't want to associate her life with her death forever. Thinking about her death IS bad, it was a horrible event, with a tragic, unchangeable result. Her life, on the other hand, was beautiful and special and I shouldn't necessarily associate it with her death or want to avoid it.

So now I'm thinking I've got not one but two suitcases. Maybe even several. But two that relate to my daughter. One carries her life, the other the events surrounding her death. And I can choose to open one, both, or neither.

I've done this literally--in my closet, I have two boxes containing her stuff. One is full of clothes, books, toys and other things that are so HER that I know I'll never let my other daughter use them. The other contains items related to her death--the shorts she was wearing, the cards from her memorial, the clothes I wore to her memorial. I never open that box, and I don't think I ever will. But someday, when my other daughter asks about it, at least it's there for her to see if she wants.

I guess that's the purpose of everyone's baggage--it has to go with you so you don't forget. It's part of your experience, who you are, how you respond to life. But you don't have to open it up and use the things within it all the time. I suppose this goes back to what I've said about choices. This is one of my choices, and choosing to keep one or both of my suitcases closed sometimes helps me get through a day.