How do you remove a band aid?
Do you rip it off quickly, peeling bits of sensitive skin, possibly a part of the scab, and absolutely all of those oh-so-tender feathers? (As a confused child, I cautioned Dad not to pull my ‘feathers’ when removing my band-aids. I spent too much time fancying flying with the birds overhead.) There is something to be said for this brisk method. Get it over with quickly even if there are still lingering remnants of pain and damage. Take a big breath and with one swift tug, yowzah, the worst is over.
Maybe you try to ease the band aid off. Loosen the corners. Both ends. Pull slowly until the pain is too much to bear and then stop. Catch your breath. Repeat until the band aid is finally ready to be removed. The benefits are obvious. No loss of skin, and minimal loss of feathers. But the pain is prolonged.
Your last option is to leave the band aid where it is. It is fine. Let it be. Eventually, with time and enough showers, it will abandon your body on its own terms. No matter how long it takes, you know it will eventually let go and the scar will be exposed. But you are only delaying the inevitable.
Which is the preferred method? Maybe the question should be, “Which method fits your personality?”
This past week my sister, brother and I (and my husband who supported us without question) were tasked with the onus of emptying our parents’ home. Dad passed in January, and Mom lives in a long-term nursing home in a dementia-of-time in which we are not privy. After 64 years of marriage, Mom and Dad accumulated volumes of memories entangled in items as well as in stuff void of meaning or at least with meanings known to us. Photographs. Greeting cards. An old serving fork from our childhood. A role of reclaimed copper wire. Tools. Dishes. Traces of a life, a family, of love.
The first step was the most difficult – where to start. It immediately became apparent that we three siblings, now ostensibly orphaned adults, employed different methods of removing band aids. My brother worked swiftly, sorting, saving and disposing at lightning speed. My sister sniffed, and savored each item, grasping for every last essence of our parents. She added their belongings to the donation pile and stashed even more in her personal cache to take home, longing to hold on just a little bit longer. And I, I am in-between. I ease the band aid until the pain is unbearable. I sorted through my parents’ items, learning more about them than I ever knew. I let myself become saturated with memories and emotions until my heart and body were consumed with loss and love. I stepped aside. Caught my breath. And repeated.
Yank. Ease. Leave. Not one method is better than the other. Each is filled with a longing for healing. No matter how the band aid is removed, the scar remains. A reminder of what once was.
This is in the not too distant future for me and my three siblings. Thank you, Kelly, for showing me that there is no one right way to rip off the bandaid. In the end, we’ll each go through it in our own way and will inevitably arrive at the same conclusion when we’re all done. Theirs was a life well lived.
I tend to launch into “function mode” and dive in head first. Accomplish the task and think later has been my mode of action.
Hugs to you and your siblings during this “necessary “ chore one must face when the time arrives. No one said it would be easy.
Beautifully written for all of us because we have all been there or will be there eventually. Letting go is hard…or shaping the past into treasures to be revisited in the future is the challenge. Yank, ease…let go.
What an insightful way to look at what can be a difficult task. But can also be one of warmth and memories. Thanks for sharing.
Hugs to you all!!
There is no easy way to clear out your parents trophy’s.
Sigh …
This might be my favorite one yet.
Thank you, Drew!