Talismans of Memories

I am the keeper of things, other people's things. During the past month, a very close friend of mine died suddenly. I now find myself as keeper of her treasures waiting for her family to claim them. This whole experience has caused me to do a considerable amount of self-questioning. Why the hell do I do this? This is nothing new. I have everybody's stuff stored in boxes in the attic, in the garage, squirreled under the stairwell. If I had a basement there would undoubtedly be more stuff. Things that are not wanted; things that are not used entombed in boxes and plastic containers. My sister's "last doll" lying in its original box, kept in air-conditioned space. Do I think that by keeping these things I am keeping these people alive? I am overwhelmed with this crap. I don't want to be this person anymore. I was relating my frustration to a neighbor's brother who is visiting from "up north" and he referred to these things as a talisman of memory, a very phrase. It really caused me to think about why I have been doing this. it all needs to go. A good friend of mine is the worst at collecting the past. She can't get rid of anything and she knows it. I was relating my revelation to her and she said she was seeking therapy to rid herself of this obsession. I have redone my kitchen to create more space. it now accommodates every Christmas card I have ever received for over the past ten years. They go tonight. I will look at them for the last time. Ok well, I took a break and did that. I made several calls and reconnected with a few people. I had a couple of good telephone conversations. isn't that better than keeping old cards in a drawer? I cannot resurrect my dead friends and loved ones. I will delete the talismans of memory and keep just the memories. the dead are that.. dead I cannot keep them alive.