The Memory Remains

I did it out of boredom. I didn't have anything to do this afternoon, so i thought i might as well clean up my room. All my things were in such disarray when i got back and i never bothered fixing things up. i just didn't feel like doing anything. Part of it was laziness. But it's mostly because I didn't really care. It took me about an hour. I finished much sooner than i expected, so i figured I'd go clean up my grandma's room as well because no one else would bother to do it. Although we weren't planning to get rid of most of her stuff in the near future, I thought it would be wise to start sorting all of her things. Truth be told her room has a lot of junk stored in every corner, it would take days to sort everything--- from those that we could keep, to those that we would donate, and to those things that were unsalvageable. And besides, the room was in such a sad state of disarray, i figured it wouldn't hurt if i restored a bit of order. After all, i stay in that room often. It wouldn't hurt to make it look as if someone still uses that room.

I finally cleared her bed of all those papers, envelopes, and photo albums. Now i have a great deal of real estate whenever i would sleep on her bed. I placed all of those clothes that remained outside for some weird reason inside her closet. I noticed a lot of those clothes had holes in them, yet she still uses them. I used to wonder why she kept wearing the same set of clothes whenever we went out. I used to think that those were her favorites. But I guess the real reason was she didn't have a lot of nice clothes. When i opened the closet, there were the those clothes, the same ones i kept seeing in pictures taken from the past couple of years... all five of them. I saw that one pair of shoes that she always wore, and they were really worn out. I opened one of her drawers and saw a lot of my old socks, the ones i used to wear in college. I remember setting them aside to be thrown out because they were already worn out and too loose. Yet there they were, inside her drawer. All along i thought I had gotten rid of them. Apparently she still used them at night whenever her feet got cold. We always had the luxury of wearing the nicest clothes, of having things of great quality... thanks to her. Yet she never availed of such luxuries even though she had the means. Rather than using her money to buy her own luxuries, she'd rather spend all that for the things that we wanted to have.

God, i wonder when this stage of grief would end. Every time i think i'm already over it, that overwhelming sense of sadness comes crashing back in. I wish these tears would stop flowing already. I'm so fuckin' tired of crying.