Memory Box

"Goodbye, Grampa!" they called as they walked down the hall. "We’ll see you next week." Slowly he walked back to his room, smiling. He so enjoyed the days his grandchildren came to visit. It was hard to believe the youngest one was starting college. Where had the time gone? How could the years move by so quickly?

Quietly, he closed the blinds in his room to block the heat of the afternoon sun and sank into his chair. Where indeed, he thought. Where had the time gone? He leaned to his left and picked up the small wooden box where he kept his memories. Long ago he had lost track of the times he'd opened the box, carefully removed each item and remembered. He remembered every minute of every day they'd spent together. He remembered the joy, her smile, the laughter that ran between them, the warmth of their bodies and the comfort he felt when he held her or touched her in the middle of the night. He remembered all those moments. And he remembered all the years he'd spent without her. The lonely nights. The days without her smile and laughter and in a number that matched the times he'd opened the box, he regretted the decision he'd made.

He had consoled himself over the years. She hadn't really loved him enough. She hadn't been true. He'd been right not to trust her words, to think her deeds were manipulations. But time told him differently. Time showed him what he'd avoided seeing from the beginning. He'd been hurt by others. He didn't trust in love. The lifelong commitment he'd made had turned into a life sentence and he'd left that. The one he thought his soul mate had left him for another and so, he'd decided his life should be otherwise. He believed in the dream that love could exist, but he wouldn't believe it for himself and when love had stood in front of him, knocking, he refused to open the door to his heart. And so, he'd spent his life with a closed heart, admitting no one and letting the one who should have lived there, walk away, forever.

Her words rang over in his ears, as if she said them this day for the first time. "I love you. I love you beyond all reason. I know you care for me. It's there. In your words, in your actions. But, I need you to admit not only to me, but to yourself that you do love me."

And still, he refused. He didn't trust. He let her go.

His life had been empty from that moment to this. And somewhere, along the way, he'd come to realize what he should have known all along. Everything, everyone who had come before had only prepared him to have what she would have offered. What he'd thought was love had only been tests. They should have been the things that proved to him her love was real. She had been his true soul mate, his twin soul and pride and hurt and fear and anger had stopped him from enjoying what should have been theirs; a lifetime of happiness, together.

The possibilities of that were in this box. The promises that had never been completely fulfilled. He picked up the program from the musical they had seen together. How long they had talked and planned for that night and finally, they'd made it. Sitting together, in the darkened theater, his hand covering hers, a seed of promise, born from another had planted itself in his heart for this woman. How beautiful she had looked that night. He could still remember the way her dress feel from her shoulders and her hair caught the theater lights as they were just dimming. He remembered her tears in a song that had been his and from that time on, the song would be hers.

He leafed through the box and found the map of the national park they had visited and he remembered her face when her plane arrived and her luggage did not. She'd made the best of a bad situation and she'd done it with her smile, that smile he saw when he closed his eyes each night.

Here was last phone bill that came with calls he'd made to her. Why hadn't he called her just once more? Why hadn't he tried to make right what should have been? There was the last card she'd sent him. He could trace her signature with his eyes closed. He whispered her name when the sun set and the sun rose and he knew in his heart, her name would be the last word he'd ever say.

Why hadn't he made thing different? Why had he let her go? Their lives had gone on, each finding success. He'd quietly kept up with what she'd done and yet he had never reached out for what should have, could have been his.

And then word had come, only a year ago, that she had died. And when that day, he sought the comfort of the memory box, he couldn't see the things inside, as tears over took him and he sat quietly in his chair and cried, mourning her death, but mourning more his loss.

Weeks later, his granddaughter had stopped by on her way from the bookstore and had shown him a book she'd bought. "Didn't you know this author, Grampa?"

He'd smiled as he took the book. He knew her work. He'd read them all, but as he opened the book and saw the dedication, he found he couldn't speak and only nodded as he handed the book back to his granddaughter.

There had been her last message to him as he noted his initials her words, 'To the man who taught me what love was all about, even after all these years.'

Tears sprang to his eyes as they always did when he held her memories. Each one lived in his heart and still he felt the need to touch these things, only things, only memories of the girl he had loved.

Closing the box and setting it on the floor he was surprised when the young woman walked in. She didn't look familiar, but her smile was warm and he wasn't surprised when she sat next to him. Her question however, surprised him greatly.

'If you could do one thing over in your life, what would it be?"

In the span of a second he knew that there were those who would ponder that question for days before answering, but without hesitation he smiled and said, "I would have told her that I loved her."

The young woman put her hand over his and the warmth he felt was overwhelmingly peaceful. He didn't know where the breeze had come from, but a cool swoosh ran through his hair and he remember her hands running over him. He didn't remember the young girl leaving, but when he woke, he reached down and pulled the memory box from the floor.

He'd lost track of how many times he'd opened this box and rummaged through the things that were inside. This box held only the sweetest of memories, but somewhere in his daughter’s attic were other boxes like it, holding years and decades of his memories with the one woman who had walked from his dreams and into his life.

He smiled as he pulled the program from the musical. They'd talked for years of going to see this one show and when at last they had done it, it had become a momentous night. It was the first night he told her what he'd known all along, that he loved her with all his heart. At the time he hadn’t stopped to realize that the show had been his life coming full circle, letting go of the past and being open to what the future, their future could bring.

There was the book containing the dozens of national parks they'd visited in the years they'd been together. He could still see her smiling and laughing as she trudged after him to see just one more thing he always told her she had to see from right here. He laughed to himself seeing her still in jeans and tennis shoes when she was close to seventy and warmth filled him as he remembered the way the light bounced from her silver hair.

There was the picture of her holding his first grandchild, their first grandchild, for she loved his children as much as she loved her own and he remembered how gently she wept when he called her 'Gram' for the first time and she thanked him for giving her something she would never have had otherwise. There were more pictures of children and grandchildren, programs from their graduations, mementoes from family weddings, along with cards, letters and souvenirs from the places they had gone and the things they had done in all their years together.

They had done so much and to some people's thinking, they had done very little. What was important was that they had done it all together, building a life for themselves by opening their hearts and joining together the love they had for one another.

How lucky he had been. How lucky they had both been. And while a tear sprang to his eye as he replaced the items in the memory box, he knew that the tinge of sadness he felt at her not being with him still was tempered by the joy he had in having had her for all those years of his life. They'd had a good life together. No, it was better than good. It had been perfect.

'If you could do one thing over in your life, what would it be?"

He didn't have to think about it. He never hesitated when he looked at the young woman and smiled. "I wouldn't have changed a thing."