Tuesday, 16 September 2014

Packing Up Clint’s Room

Thinking out aloud, commits you to all sorts of things that you are not ready for and that was made pretty clear this weekend when I started to pack up Clint’s bedroom. One day during the week, Mark and I were talking about it and I mentioned Clint’s motorbike jacket and Mark said he would really like it. I took it out the cupboard and Mark tried it on and it fits him – it is a lot tighter around his stomach, but it fits. Sheila washed it, you will not believe how much dust collects on clothes in a closed cupboard and now the jacket belongs to Mark. Now I am thinking that it was totally not a good idea. I also took one of Clint’s hoodies and washed it, because Mark was going to have that too, but I put it back in Clint’s cupboard, because after thinking it over, the clothes were new when Clint died, but they are not new anymore, they are actually very old now – like eight years old. It was supposed to be the start of sorting out Clint’s clothes, but it ended right there and then.


When Mark was trying on the jacket we noticed a mark on the one arm, which was from the accident Mark and Clint had 8 months before Clint died. The jacket protected him from getting really hurt and he walked away with a tiny graze on his lower back. I am so angry, not at Clint, but at myself for not insisting that he wore his jacket all the time. Mark says the jacket would not have protected his liver, but it would have been a lot more protection than the thin T-Shirt he was wearing the day his life ended. It should have been not negotiable – wear your jacket whether it is too hot or not. If only hindsight was foresight.


On Saturday, I eventually went into Clint’s room and started taking down the posters and cried and packed some of his stuff away and cried and looked through his stuff and cried and yes I did more crying than anything else. I looked through his school bag and found one of his English essays – I am going to type it out and make a whole post about it. Reading that essay again just broke me and I couldn't do anymore to his room.


His room is now a mess – it has an “unlived in” feel about it and everything is lying on his bed. I was going to carry on on Sunday, but couldn't. I am so sorry that I did this – Chad who never hardly ever talks about Clint and does not even hint at his feelings, said that I should not have changed Clint’s room. Chad said Clint did his room like that and that is the way we should have left it. I was chatting to my mom on BBM today and I was telling her about how I feel and what Chad said. Sometimes it is hard to express something in a text message and in trying to explain what I meant about something else, the way I explained it to my mother, would explain how Chad probably feels. Although he did try and cover up his sadness, but what I think he was trying to say was that by changing Clint’s room, I am removing all trace of him and his memory. I feel exactly the same now and am in quite a state and dilemma, because I can’t put it back like it was and I don’t know how to move forward.


Clint loved bikes so much, his school books were even covered in bike pictures. Now I have wiped out his passion like it never existed and I really had no right to decide that because he should have turned 25 this coming Sunday, that he would no longer want those posters on his walls. The reality is that he never got to turn older than 17 and he did his room like that when he was 14, more than 10 years ago and I just took it all down and screwed it all up.


Making the right decision is never easy and I always make the wrong one.

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