Left with Nothing, Given Everything

  

“When you die, do I get all your stuff?” she asked seriously.

She was five years old and had just left her third funeral within the last six months. After watching her parents pack boxes and distribute belongings, it hit her. Mom and dad had siblings, people they shared with throughout their whole lives, but it was just her. She was the only child and there was a lot of stuff in that house, would she put it in boxes one day?

“Honey, you get everything.”

“Oh.”

That wasn’t okay, there was too much stuff for a five-year-old, what would she do with it all? Where would she put it? She was going to have ten golden retrievers when she grew up, these were not small dogs, what was she going to do?

 

When I was a child, my biggest concern was what would I do with all the stuff my parents would leave me with when they died. They owned a lot of items that I didn’t care for and frankly didn’t want. I would inherit the fancy dishes, family heirlooms, furniture, and boxes full of junk that we hadn’t looked for in years, I was terrified. As I grew older, this fear dissipated a bit. My mom moved into a smaller house, which allowed me to be straightforward and tell her what I would and would not keep, and they were going to live a long time. I had years to slowly throw things away.

Then my mom died. I inherited the stuff. Going through the different boxes, documents, and the boxes we still hadn’t opened, I thought back to five-year-old me. She was so concerned about being left with everything, that she didn’t consider what it would feel like to have nothing.

I didn’t realize then that one day I would be alone. I would be surrounded by boxes but would no longer be surrounded by her arms. I would have pictures and videos, but I wouldn’t have her. I was five, how was I supposed to have thought this far, now I am here wishing for more.

I want more time, more memories, and more laughter. I want to go through those boxes with her and learn all of the family details I ignored before. I thought I would be left with everything. I am learning what you aren’t given is worse.

I was not given more years. I don’t have phone calls on birthdays or Christmas presents or reassurance as I wander through life without her. I am left here with boxes when the one thing I want is gone. I was not prepared to be left with nothing, I was waiting for everything.