Two boxes

Pauline died tragically and unexpectedly. It was horrible. It remains horrible. Losing a loved one is difficult in every way when you are able to prepare for the eventuality. I've seen it happen with friends and family members who have had cancer and other illnesses. There is time to get 'one's things in order.' There's a lot to do. I had no warning and there was no time to plan anything. I expected Pauline to come home. Pauline expected to come home. She left all of her life, including all of her possessions, with that expectation.

Pauline and I were planners. The reality for all of us is that we're going to run headfirst into that eventuality. We're going to die. In our culture, there are lots of people who work hard at denying that reality. If you can take periodic breaks from denial, there's a lot you can do to prepare so that your partner, spouse or children aren't saddled with the horrible burden of having to do all of it. Pauline and I had done a lot. We had all our financial and legal lives 'in order.' We had, in fact, gone through the entire process of planning and paying for our funerals. And that included picking out and paying for a headstone and what we wanted written on it.

When Pauline died, I had very little to do regarding all those issues. Everything was pretty much taken care of within a month. Most of it was taken care of on autopilot. I was so grateful for that planning and preparation, because I was in no shape psychologically or emotionally to do anything.

After the funeral, I focused on what I had to do. I took care of Kazu. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't had Kazu in my life. He had been so sick the year and a half before Pauline died. She worked so hard to maintain his health. I did my best to continue Pauline's efforts to care for her service dog. Kazu had given her so much during her life. I owed him that. He was my reason for getting up every morning. He was the reason I got dressed and left the house. Caring for Kazu and saying Kaddish three times a day. My routine.

What I did have in front of me was a lifetime of Pauline's accumulated things. Our house was filled with Pauline's possessions. Pauline had so many things. Every trip to the beach entailed another collection of shells. We returned from every vacation with an addition to her magnet, t-shirt and coffee cup collections. She had notebooks filled with ideas for designing our home and our garden. Pauline collected children's books. She collected candles and just about anything that was her favorite color purple. She had religious objects and books everywhere. All the Christmas decorations. So many collections. So many tchotchkes.

At the very pinnacle of my mental illness, I decided to tackle Pauline's clothes closet. It was entirely insane. But I was able to do it because I was totally insane. Clothes are so personal, so intimate and so emotional. There are so many stories and memories stitched into every piece of clothing. Pauline's clothes smelled like Pauline. Pauline's closet smelled like Pauline. I asked my daughter's in law, my sister in law and my niece to spend a day with me to go through Pauline's clothes.

I had an unusual relationship with Pauline's wardrobe. I had picked out and purchased most of it; at least during the time she had transverse myelitis. I did almost all our shopping. I did her clothes shopping because Pauline had such a difficult time making a decision about her clothes. Pauline had issues about how she saw herself before she got transverse myelitis. Anthropological observation: a common issue for many women in American culture. After she was paralyzed and, in a wheelchair, those body image issues became magnified. It was psychologically easier for me to pick out her outfits. And I did the shopping because Pauline didn't have the time or energy. Between fatigue, her full-time job and mobility issues, it was so much easier for me to do this shopping.

I always hoped that Pauline could see herself the way I saw her; and how others saw her. She was beautiful. Having noted Pauline's issues about self-image, she was glamorous. In fact, one might ask, what the hell was she doing with me?

She was bold in what she was willing to wear. She could pull off almost anything; and I often got daring with my choices. Miraculously, everything I ever bought for Pauline fit her on the first try; and that included three bathing suits over the years.

I had a totally unrealistic desire that they would want to take every single item of clothing for themselves. It somehow felt more comforting for me to think that Pauline's clothes were going to be worn by people she loved as opposed to strangers. That wasn't going to happen. We set aside some items for my mother, my sister and her two best friends. When family took what they wanted, which was a lot, we still had a gigantic pile of shoes and clothing which I donated. The entire process made me so very sad.

Shortly after the clothes episode, my mental illness subsided enough that I was able to reflect on what I had done, and totally freaked out. I couldn't go into Pauline's closet for months. It was too painful. I had no idea at all as to how I was able to give her clothes away. I had to remind myself that I was existing in the twilight zone.

And then I remembered that I had taken so many photographs of Pauline. The odds were pretty good that I had at least one photograph of Pauline in every one of her outfits. That has proven to be the case.

I did keep a few items of clothing that meant something to me, including the pair of jean overalls that she was wearing on the night that I first met her. Pauline was so beautiful.

I had so much respect for Pauline. I felt I owed it to her to look at every piece of paper, every single one of her possessions. There was so much. Her file cabinets, her drawers, boxes and boxes. I went through and reviewed all of it. She kept every single card she ever received from everyone for every occasion. I looked at all of it. Her computer. There were so many photographs and files. All of her schoolwork.

What I did not look at were Pauline's journals. Pauline did so much writing. Pauline was one of the most private people I've ever known. Her writings were exclusively for herself. In our almost 30 years together, Pauline never shared a single journal entry. She never asked me to look at any one of her many journals. As I went through her things, and I came upon one of her journals, it went into a box. I never opened a page to read a single entry. When I was satisfied that I had found all of them, I took the box to a Fedex store to have them shredded. I owed her that, as well. And then I thought about all the things I had ever written that I didn't want for my children and grandchildren to read, and I took those piles of paper to the Fedex store also. I went through the same process with electronic files. My children know me well, but they don't need to know everything. Lesson. If there are things in your possession that you don't want anyone to know about, you might want to get rid of them now, because you have no idea whether you're going to be dead this afternoon.

I felt so horrible about the process, that before I threw away a single thing of Pauline's, I started going through all my stuff, and I started throwing away things that I no longer needed or wanted. That helped a little.

I had a strategy that I employed for sorting all this stuff. If was I going to use it, I kept it. If it had sentimental value for me or for our family or friends, I kept it. Everything else was either donated or recycled or thrown away. It is a daunting process. Reviewing a life - it felt so overwhelming and sad.

I gave many of Pauline's things to our family and good friends. Pauline had so many things from her 25 years of being an elementary school teacher. I donated all her books, supplies and curriculum materials to her good friends who are still teaching.

I did keep Pauline's cross and rosary hanging from the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed. They hang alongside a purple ribbon; her favorite shade of purple.

There were so many photo albums. Pauline had a whole life before she and I met. Going through all of those photographs and reviewing her life that had nothing to do with me was a bittersweet and difficult process. I kept photographs that meant something to me and then gave all her albums to her family.

I'm Pauline's husband and very emotional and sentimental. Because of my feelings and my respect for Pauline, I went through everything. Every book, every piece of paper, every folder, every drawer, every box, every closet. There was so much. Pauline was a voracious reader. She kept track of everything she'd ever read and made lists of everything she wanted to read. She kept notebooks filled with quotes from people that had meaning for her. And sheets and sheets of children's songs that she liked and wanted to teach her students. I reviewed all of it.

I completed the process of reading and reviewing, sorting, and making horribly difficult decisions about every single one of Pauline's possessions. I kept what had sentimental value for me. Just this week, I lovingly placed all these items into two boxes. I closed the lids on the boxes, I stood back, looked at them and wept.

Two boxes. A life. A beautiful, meaningful, purposeful life. Two boxes.

How often will I look in those boxes?

Lesson. If you leave your life possessions for your children to manage, the process is likely going to involve a shovel, wheelbarrow and dumpster. The more you leave them, the greater the odds that this is going to be the approach they employ; after they find and recover your expensive jewelry. It is best to small down now, while you have control over all of these decisions.

Going through this process was an important reminder for me that our lives are not at all about our possessions. The jewelry, the cars, furniture, clothes... mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of life.

You aren't going to be remembered for your things. You are going to be remembered for what you do with your life. You will be remembered for your relationships with people, your values, and your good deeds, your mizvot.

Pauline lived a life to be remembered. She lived a remarkable journey.

Over a 25-year period, Pauline had almost 1,000 students. She was a kindergarten teacher for eight years. She was a 2nd and 4th grade teacher for the remaining 17 years. Her impact on these children was profound. She loved her students as if they were her own children. She gave them the very best of herself. In the face of all the horrible symptoms Pauline had from transverse myelitis, she came to school every day and made her students her priority. They never had any idea at all to what extent she suffered, primarily with nerve pain and fatigue. Pauline was respected, admired and loved by her students. There is no more important job in our society than being a teacher. Pauline was the most dedicated and wonderful teacher. She will be fondly remembered by her students.

Pauline worked with me to help establish an organization that advocates for people with rare neuroimmne disorders. These are auto-immune disorders that impact the central nervous system. Pauline was diagnosed with transverse myelitis in 1994. She helped to grow this organization to almost 14,000 members from more than 100 countries around the world.

Pauline was involved in offering support and information to people diagnosed with these rare disorders. For many people, she was the first person they ever met who also had transverse myelitis. Pauline shared her story and her experiences with people in our community. As private a person as Pauline was, she generously and courageously shared her experiences so that others would not feel so isolated or alone. She attended support group meetings, education programs and fundraisers across the country.

She received a service dog from Canine Companions for Independence. Through her relationship and experiences with Kazu, she taught people from our community the positive ways a service dog can impact quality of life. Pauline has been a major influence on people who have since received service dogs, many of whom have also worked with Canine Companions for Independence.

We hold a camp every summer for children who have these rare neuroimmune disorders and their families. Pauline was a wonderful role model for these children.

Pauline will be remembered for the impact she had on this community.

There was nothing more important in Pauline's life than her family and friends. Pauline was a devoted and loyal friend. Pauline was a loving and wonderful mother, daughter, auntie, granddaughter, and sister. She spoke to her parents every day. She was like a second mother to her niece and two nephews. She was the best Sitte in the world to her grandchildren. These relationships gave meaning and purpose to Pauline's life. They were the most important part of her life. She is and will be remembered so lovingly by her family and her friends.

In Judaism, there isn't an emphasis on afterlife; not at all like Christianity. I can't remember any sermons by my rabbis about a connection between how I behave or what I do with my life, and an eternal reward. Afterlife was and remains a vague concept. What is emphasized in Judaism is being remembered. The anniversary of a person's death is their yahrzeit. There are prayers said and loved one's light a candle that burns for 24 hours. There are four times during the year that a yizkor service is held to remember loved ones who have died. Yizkor literally means remembrance. These are solemn and holy and loving remembrances. In Judaism, we never name a child for someone who is alive; we name them to honor and to remember a relative who has died. We are about remembering. I recognize Pauline's yahrzeit and I go to yizkor services for my Lebanese Catholic wife. I know Pauline would love being remembered in this way - by me and by her family and friends.

I will cherish the two boxes of Pauline's things.

But that was not Pauline's life.

Our anniversary is on Monday. I went to the cemetery over the weekend to say my prayers and to remember such a beautiful, purposeful life.

Ana hubik, Sitte.