Every time I open a draw in his room, or clean up something from the shelves, closet or floor, I can clearly hear Scott's voice: "what the hell do you think you're doing?" rattling me AND the assorted items spread across his bed, his dresser and the various other surfaces ... I can't enter his room without a guttural connection to the years of fearing him finding me poking around through is treasures.
There were the absolutely beautiful Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars in his dresser, the cool stuffies in the closet, and the other odds and ends that he had tucked away here and there ... as a kid I spent many a terror filled hour poking around and exploring in my Big Brother's room, all the while KNOWING that if I was caught a beating would be the inevitable outcome.
It's funny ... even today, I still feel a shudder of fear as I enter his room and sort through things ... I know he's passed from this mortal coil, but the lesson was drummed into me well ... "LEAVE MY STUFF ALONE !!!" along with an accompanying beating, some curse words and a few other acts of brotherly 'love' taught me well !!
Yet, here I am, having to sift through the assorted odds and ends that Scott has left as a legacy ... yesterday I tackled his closet.
I sorted through his clothes, tossing the old worn out tee-shirts, bagging up the usable ones that hold no interest for me, and folding those that I can either use, or just want to keep because they speak to my soul ... along the way I found bits of paper tucked into his pockets, a few stale pieces of gum, and the odd item that left me shaking my head ... I've come to realize that my brother was in many ways an enigma ...
On the exterior there was a rough and crusty curmudgeon who prided himself for being a real S.O.B. when necessary, but inside was a soft, warm and very sensitive heart that broke easily, and that he protected fiercely ... Scott was unbelievably sentimental. I got a hint of that early in the cleaning up at Mom's when I said that I wanted Mom's binder cook book full of her hand written recipes.
"No way," he replied with a look of disbelief at my request, "I want it ..."
"For what?" I asked.
"To keep and use," he said with a sad grin on his face, "I plan on cooking more and want to use Mom's recipes ..."
I couldn't argue, nor did I feel inclined. "Okay," I said, "but I want to borrow it sometime to copy it ..."
We agreed, and I watched him carry the funky yellow and orange binder into his room, where a few short days later I retrieved it and gently carried it home ...
Scott was a sentimental old fool ... pictures, cards, notes, and mementos of trips and happenings fill the space in his room. Over and over, I have had the pleasure of sorting through his accumulated piles and laughing at the strange selection of things that he had saved ... I've wept at the pictures of family, friends, vehicles and pets that he has lovingly tucked away in a safe place ... and I've shaken my head in bewilderment at how incredibly tender a soul he possessed.
Finding the box of his childhood stuffies carefully tucked in the back of his closet alongside Dad's guitar, and a variety of other "childish" things stopped me short yesterday as I cleaned and sorted ... as I opened the box I was flooded with a tsunami of memories that took me back to my childhood ... as each stuffie emerged from the box I remembered borrowing them, Scott retrieving them, and the ensuing fights as I questioned his rigid YOU CAN`T PLAY WITH THEM attitude over his toys ...
Scott was not so much a hoarder as a curator over a dizzying collection of artifacts and treasures that had meaning to him ... he preserved carefully things that reminded him of past events and helped him garner the strength he needed to face the challenges before him. One could easily dismiss his room as cluttered and full of junk, but slowly, like any good archaeological dig, peeling back the layers reveals a beautiful, loving, artistic and creative soul, that cherished life, yearned for love, and with a cock-eyed grin and a snarky: "give your head a shake" approached life on his terms, protecting the curly headed boy that lingered deep within ...
In the last six months, as I've sorted through my brother's things I've learned more and more about him, and with each day I've come to miss him more and more, and appreciate him even more ... Scott was an amazing person ...
I wish I could have learned that simple truth before we said 'good bye' ...
I love you bro ... and I'll take good care of your stuff!!!
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