Today I let go of some stuff. It wasn't even my stuff, it belonged to my parents. They had a record collection. Not any great shakes by some standards, I know, but memories none the less. Dad's swing music, some western music, even some kid music. And the Christmas music. From back in the fifties and sixties. Talk about memories.
The records had been in storage. By no means in proper storage either, just tucked away in a shed, pretty much. Now, I know people will groan and grumble about that. They could have been stored properly, taken better care of. Yep, they sure could have. My dad was around when they were put in that shed, and they were - at that time - his to take care of, if he wanted to do that. I have my own albums to not take care of, thank you.
Anyway, the shed owners had pulled them out of the shed, and delivered them to my house, in hopes that they could and would be salvaged. I pulled a few out. They were beyond dusty. Dusty would be a polite way of describing them, because the filth was not just dust or dirt. They were stinky, and something had burrowed into part of the decomposing cardboard at some time. Ewww.
I put some of them into a box, and kept the others in the bag they had been stored in, and set them aside for the grappler truck next week. Then I had to make peace with myself for my actions. I mean these albums were my parents'. Both of them are gone now. But their memories are not, and that - really - is what those albums represented. It was, for the most part, music that I own if I cared about it. If I want it, I can find it, somewhere. I don't have to have those particular albums. Which is good, because they are a health hazard, at this point. Still, I AM a Taurus, and we have a hard time letting go of things. I have been working on that, though. And here is where that practice pays off. Mom, Dad, I still love you, and I still miss you, but I am NOT keeping those albums!