Hair ties
"I don't like Dan anymore, he's a stupid head" "ya he's dumb" I have conversations like this often with my sisters. It's our way of telling Dan were still mad at him for that whole dying thing. Probably the worst things I've ever heard said about Dan came out of my own mouth. They were things like "you are the best procrastinator I've ever seen" (although Baby Girl is giving him a run for his money) "seriously why do you keep so many papers" "you have to actually look for things if you expect to find them" and "ugggg it's ok to ask people for help" (apparently we are both bad at that one).
"What should I do with these?" I was unpacking the bathroom in our new house. The day before I had just packed them up at my in-laws, There they were in a drawer. The same drawer they'd been in for probably 10 years. One of those little plastic storage containers with drawers. It sat in our bathroom for forever, holding q tips and cotton balls and Dan's hair ties. I haven't touched them in two years and three months. One thing Dan was known for was his extremely long hair. It was a great way to describe him. "My husbands the one over there with the really long hair and tattoos" "You'll recognize him when he comes in he has really long hair and tattoos." Really long hair meant to about the middle of his back. It just seemed to stop there and he was frustrated he could never get it to grow any longer. He always had it in a tight pony tail or braid (done by me, Dan was excellent at braiding hair just not his own) Always tied up with small black hair ties he kept in a plastic drawer, except when he would leave them all over the house and I would grumble as I picked them up and put them in the drawer for him.
Different from my hair ties which are rainbow colored and big for my extremely thick hair. I couldn't get Dan's hair ties around my pony tail even once. Mine had their own drawer, baby girl had her own hair ties in her own drawer and Dan had his. I organized that because I hated digging through different sized hair ties. Organization was not one of Dan's best skills.
Everything of Dan's that I've gotten rid of, or moved, or put in a box, I didn't touch his hair ties. I didn't know what to do with them. It seems so silly to keep ugly old hair ties, a lot of them all twisted up, but I couldn't throw them away. So I just left them, where they go in the drawer. I decided I didn't want those plastic drawers at the new house, so I pulled everything out of them, put them in Ziplocs and threw them in a box, including Dan's hair ties. Now I was unpacking the bathroom. "what should I do with these?" I asked my sister. "What are they?" "Dan's hair ties" "oooohhhhh"
Ooooohhhhhhh. I looked at them through the zip lock baggie. They still have pieces of his hair on them, Just strands of Dan's long brown hair, they pulled out when he took the hair tie off and threw it in the drawer. Hair, his hair that I will never touch again. I need to lay down. I lay on the couch holding the bag of hair ties as if it were a teddy bear. The stabbing pain is attacking my heart and it hurts so bad I cry. My sister sit beside me. "Dan's stupid, I don't like him anymore." I mumble through my tears. "Ya he's a stupid head." she confirms. We lay there for awhile, I pull out a teddy bear, a special one Dan got me ( I have a lot of those).
"So what are we going to do with those?" my sister finally asks. "throw them in the box when I find it I guess." I have a box of Dan stuff. Old stuff like the dried boutonniere from my senior prom that he saved. His old wrestling helmet. His name tags from summer camp. Mementos and stuff. Stuff he doesn't use anymore but should, his wallet, his keys, his hair ties. Stuff thats supposed to be laying around the house in the wrong spot. Stuff that doesn't belong in a box because it gets used everyday. Stuff from when he was living.
When I find the box I will put his hair ties in it, because I can't throw his ratty old hair ties away. I could lay on that couch forever, the stabbing pain in my heart hurts too much for me to move. Just stay here and clutch the hair ties and stare at the wall and wish that things were different. But I can't do that right now, it's time to go get Baby Girl, so I whip my tears and stand up.
I wrote a book about my grief, you can read it here: Carry on Castle
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