The Burning: What to do with Eighteen Years of Memories

June 10^th is my anniversary, my former anniversary, my ex-anniversary.    

It’s hard not to notice dates.  It’s hard not to think about what it means to you.  It’s hard not to remember that one June 10^th, in 2000, we got married.  I have pictures.  I have certificates.  I even have framed needlepoints that people lovingly made for us to remember that day.  And I have memories.  I remember that he cried as I walked down the aisle of the church.  I remember that at the end of that day, we laughed hysterically as we went through the Wendy’s drive-thru because we were starved. 

What do I do with this day now?  Will I always remember our wedding?  Will I need to?  I still have my rings and my dress.  What should I do with them?  When other people get divorced, they sometimes save these things, these mementos, for their kids and future generations.  I have no kids.  And who would want any of my memories?

And yet, it’s easy enough to tuck the memories back in your brain.  But, what to do with the actual, physical items commemorating my failed marriage?  It doesn’t seem like these are things I should just throw out, like they were trash.  They were important to me for a long time.  But keeping them doesn’t seem right either.  They remind me of how things fell apart and that makes me sad.   I have been trying to move on and live a happier, healthier life.  I need to part from these tokens of grief.

This is what led me to “the burning.”   I decided that I needed to dispose of my wedding memories in some sort of ceremonial fashion – a burning.  Tonight, I will build a fire in my fire pit and I will burn some of these mementos, not in anger, but simply as a way to send them off into the universe.  That way, I can truly let go of these items and the memories that go with them.  Will it still be sad?  Of course.  Will it require drinking some wine?  Definitely.  The letting go is hard, but necessary for the new journey.   Will I ever truly forget?  No.  And I don’t want to forget it all.  There was happiness there too.  There was goodness that day.  But if I can let go of some of it, it will let go of me too.   And then, I can look to the future and start working on my new life and create my own new happiness.

The person I was in 2000 is quite different from who I am now, having lived through a lot of pain since then.  In a way, I wish I could tell that old me from 2000 what to do differently, but living through that pain made me who I am today and I like that person quite a bit.  She is strong and resilient and loves herself.  I am ready to move on and have been -- physically, mentally, emotionally. New, happy memories await.