Little Boy Blue, and the shed

I Shall pass this way but once., any good that I can do.....let me do it now:

I have lost my parents, and I have had to go through every single one of their possessions, item by item, treasure by treasure. I have had to go through my Dads tools, one by one, and make decisions. I have a small tool box downstairs, it contains just a few of my Dad's well worn tools, handle grips that were in his hands for hours, and years of those hours.

I have some of my mother's treasures as well, so many of sentiment, my brothers locks of hair from first haircuts preserved, all of our evil report cards preserved, cards to my father expressing her love as the years passed them, and his back to her. Christening outfits I never witnessed a baby in except for pictures of my brothers and I kept neatly fold in a cedar chest that was her mothers. I have hers and my fathers wallets pretty much as they were.

So the day of the shed I seriously did understand the mens mindsets, and the huge amount of mourning they were feeling as they made decisions of what to keep and what not to, it was a seriously long day, there was no way it did not pumel them into the ground over the fact that you were now gone, oh so gone from their site, they inquiries, memories of working side by side with you throughout oh so many years.
If they weren't so raw and throbbing, the day probably had higher chances of ending differently, but instead it ended badly for many, and we've all had to ponder it to some degree to shed some light on it.
In grief, none of us hit bottom at the same time. Kit and I call it having a moment, we cry, we shake our heads and move on, but at the time of the shed they were locked into a task so horrendous, trying to muddle through the day with eachother as a good company for the task.
Pre-tears disguised with a smile, a laugh, a comment celebrating that you certainly did like to be prepared for any situation.
So I close with a beautiful poem written in the mid 1800's that expresses so much about grief and loss, that expresses why Lauren's grave segment for little children (Called Holy Innocents) is decorated/littered at time with children's toys, army men, little clowns, baby dolls, and wreaths made of little children's toys, and you will see it is not much different for an adult we lose:

Little Boy Blue:
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and staunch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
and his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
and the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and placed them there.

"Now don't you go till I come", he said,
"and don't you make any noise",
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
he dreamt of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, and angel song
Awakened our little boy blue,
Oh, the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true.

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting these long years through,
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there.

-Eugene Field 1850-1895