A Final Gift of

I didn’t want it. I really didn’t.

When the moving men were packing, I told them that.

When my son asked, I told him that.

I wanted to remember the 6’4” Adonis who walked along the ocean daily.

The only visitor I wanted in my dreams was the lifetime companion who always held my hand.

I never wanted to forget the man I knew and loved and treasured for more than half a century.

No, I didn’t want it. I truly didn’t.

That’s why it was such a surprise when the packing boxes were opened, and the young helper asked me, “Where should I put this?”

I looked up in surprise and told the truth. “I really don’t care. I don’t know who put it in that box. I didn’t want it.”

That was a year and a half ago. It has loitered in a dark corner of the apartment leaning behind two Pottery Barn baskets holding table linen. I rarely remembered it being there. I never looked at it.

One morning last week when I stepped out of bed, I could not put any weight on my left foot. I hobbled to the phone and asked the concierge if she could recommend a podiatrist.

Always reliable, she provided a name, and I was able to get an afternoon appointment. However, then I realized I could not put a shoe on and had to rely on the questionable support of flimsy flip flops.

It is a long walk to the main floor where I would get transportation. I knew I needed help and panic began to hold me in its grip.

Suddenly, I remembered it. The thing I never wanted. The thing someone inadvertently sent on a journey where there would be no welcome. The thing that provoked memories of sadness and finality, and everthing I have tried to forget.

When I retrieved it, put the flip flops on and managed to get to the front door, I held it tightly. The memories it resurrected were not the ones I feared.

Instead I remembered how he had always taken care of me, and how courageous he had been even at the moment of our last goodbye.

And I knew he had sent the cane in case I might need it one day. A final gift of love that I had never expected and I remembered my son’s words.

“Mom, maybe he wanted you to have it.”