When we moved into this condo the movers we hired were young and
strong, so I didn’t hesitate to toss everything into boxes for them to lug
around. I even packed all the food
in the pantry. My husband was
still able to grocery shop at that point so some of the things I moved were
items he had purchased. Like this
can of organic, low-sodium chicken noodle soup he bought for himself. I’m sure it was expensive. He didn’t worry about things like that
when it came to food. But
that soup was placed in the new pantry and then forgotten.
As the months went by after he died, I would occasionally see
that can and ‘see it without seeing it.’ At that stage, if it was going to cause pain – just avoid it.
So it got placed in the back as I purchased other canned goods. I found it this winter when I
organized the pantry. I put
it near the front and there it has sat.
It’s funny the ability we
have to ignore what we don’t want to see.
So, the other day was really busy. I didn’t have time for lunch and suddenly it was nearing
2:00pm. And I was feeling queasy
and light headed. I needed
something soothing and fast. In
that moment, I wasn’t thinking about my husband. I was thinking chicken noodle soup would be perfect in the
microwave. As I was nearing the bottom of the bowl,
the waves of grief hit me and I cried.
That was HIS soup. And I
ate it. I cried a bit and then went back to work. And as I did, I heard a song on the
digital movie station that I had never heard played there before. The song we danced to at our wedding
for our first dance. I
smiled. Perhaps he was saying hi. To help me as I said ‘another
goodbye.’
And I marvel still today at the ability we humans have to see
only what we want to see. On
some level, I had to know that last can of soup he purchased for himself could
only cause pain. But I didn’t toss it in the trash. I kept it. I must have known that I needed to experience this
moment. This moment of goodbye
contained in that can of soup.
It’s the knowing behind the knowing.
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