Mourning the Memories

I am the type of person that keeps things.  I have mentioned this before.  I keep old letters and photographs.  I save ticket stubs and greeting cards.  This is great when I want to take a little walk down memory lane, or I want to make a scrapbook from my sophomore year of high school.  It is not so great when I randomly stumble upon a box full of cards from my high school graduation late at night and begin reading them – alone.

I found the card from my grandma and even her signature made me cry.  I found the card from my neighbor that passed away – the one I knew and loved dearly like a second grandmother.  I read the words my great aunt wrote about how special I was to her, and the one that had my great uncle’s name on it.  I saw the one that had my ex-boyfriend’s little brother’s name on it – the little boy that drowned three years ago this December.

I couldn’t stop crying.  I couldn’t stop reading.  I was so glad that I had saved these things.  That I still had that little piece of them to go along with my memories – just in case my memories ever began to fade.

It has been five years since I graduated high school.  In that time there have been over 10 funerals – 7 for friends under the age of 25.  I think I’m losing count.  I would say that I’m becoming numb to it all, but the truth is I still hurt for each of them everyday.