Somehow, a lack of communication has resulted in our losing another piece of Jolene.
I have debated about whether or not to write about this loss. It involves someone near and dear to us, who mistakenly did something that has hurt us deeply. I decided that I needed to. It's the most emotional, important thing that has happened in recent days.
Our kind, helpful neighbor moved Jolene's boxes from the storage unit to our apartment. We separated her things into four groups:
Keep: The boxes are stacked in our hallway.
Give away: Two resale stores picked up those items.
Throw away: In the dumpsters at the storage unit.
Store for Jaran, Jolene's brother, and John, her father. The problem involves this group.
Everything was clearly labeled except a large blue plastic bin for Jaran. We didn't need to. The only bin of its kind, he had claimed it and filled it with toys, books, videos, things that held special memories for him, others that he thought his girls might enjoy. The blue box belonged to him. Our neighbor took the things for John and Jaran into his apartment because, as he said, "You don't have space!"
On Saturday, we went to our neighbor to retrieve the extra boxes.
He'd given the large blue box away. We don't blame him. But his action stirred pain and loss into a frenzy again.
Intrinsic value, nonexistent. But Mom and I struggle with letting it go. For one thing, we hurt for Jaran. All the things he especially treasured--gone. Irretrievable.
But ultimately, we've lost another piece of Jolene. Remorse and new pain have diluted the good feelings I experienced all last week.