Jack-pot of Memories
I hit a jack-pot of memories! About a month ago I decided to clean out the
shed in the back…after completing the S & J Serenity Garden I had all this
energy that needed to be exerted…how better to get exercise than to clean the
shed. I started by pulling out the
garden equipment. After pulling out the
garden equipment it was time for me to start sorting boxes, a lot of
boxes. I pulled one box at a time down
from the tall pile of boxes, carried them out of the shed and stacked them into
different piles onto the lawn. There
were a number of boxes that I did not recognize, but then again all of these
boxes have been out in the shed for probably 13 years or so. So other than Christmas and Halloween boxes I
really did not recognize many of the other boxes. After sweeping the floor, I put the garden
tools back in place and started sorting out the boxes. Among the boxes were three boxes that had
‘Jeff’ written on them…I momentarily stopped in my tracks when I came across
these boxes, I recognized one of the boxes as one I packed myself years
ago. I remember packing Jeff’s
t-shirts…I packed them…but after all this time I had no idea which t-shirts,
nor how many t-shirts I packed in the small box. I did not recognize the other two boxes at
all and asked myself, “Did I pack these two boxes? Surely I did, but still was not sure. Without opening the boxes, I laid them aside
from the others and tried not to focus on them as I continued to work on
sorting and re-stacking.
As I continued to clean, my eyes kept darting toward Jeff’s
boxes. “What could be in them?” I
thought. “Who packed them?” I push back the questions in my head and
continued to rearrange the shed. The
boxes I knew I would save went to the back of the stack of boxes, while the
others I wasn’t sure about were stacked near the front. I knew I would be having a yard sale soon, so
I wanted to be able to rummage through these boxes, and wanted them to be
easily accessible. I made several trips
back and forth into the garage carrying boxes and other things I found, to make
it easier for me to sort them later for my garage sale. I deliberately left Jeff’s boxes for last, looking
at them every time I went past carrying something into the garage.
Without opening boxes I carried the first of Jeff’s boxes
into the house and laid it on the floor in front of the TV, wondering the whole
while, “What the heck is in this heavy box?”
The second box was the box of t-shirts I personally packed away. When Jeff moved out he threw out a bunch of
clothes and shoes…I went through these belongings and took out some t-shirts I
wanted to save as memorabilia for when Jeff grew up. I never told Jeff I went through the
belongings he tossed out, and over time I did remember I had packed away some
of his t-shirts. The third box was very
heavy. When I carried it to the house, I
had to take, not one, but two different breaks to the house. When it came time to carry the box up the
stairs I heaved it onto the stairs one step at a time…again thinking, “What
could possibly be in this dang box that would be so heavy?”
After bringing all three boxes into the house I sat on the
sofa, in my corner, staring at the boxes. Every time I sat to watch TV I would just
stare at these boxes. Fritz, my cat,
loved that the boxes were in the house.
They gave him something new to play on and he treated them as an
obstacle course of sorts. As I sat in my
corner I kept telling myself, “Just go ahead an open them.” I couldn’t though…I just didn’t want to open
them…I was afraid, afraid of the emotions that would come out in me. I was doing so well emotionally lately, I
just did not want to take a step back. Was afraid to take a step back again…afraid
to go back to all those dark emotions…those black, gloomy emotions that controlled
me for so long. I just could not go back
there. So I would sit and stare at the
boxes, day after day. I just knew in my
heart if I opened the boxes it would be like opening a Pandora’s Box…full of depression. I did not want to go back in time.
It took me over two weeks to open these boxes. Night after night I would stare at the boxes and
wonder what was inside. I remember
packing one of the boxes with some of my favorite t-shirts…but had no idea what
was in the other boxes none what-so-ever!
Nor could I remember which t-shirts I packed away for Jeff…nor how
many. One evening I came home from work
and moved the boxes to where they were easily accessible for me while
sitting. I then got up and made myself
busy doing other things around the house.
A couple hours went by and then I went and sat down on the chair nearest
to where the boxes had been move. I
decided to just go ahead and open the boxes.
The first box I opened was the box I knew t-shirts were packed in. There were many t-shirts…small ones from
soccer, softball, and from grade school.
It was no wonder I packed these away…they were so cute…and brought back
so many memories of Jeff as a child. How
many times did I drive him to and from practices for these sports? How many different activities did I attend to
watch him participate? And my emotions…
I was so elated on my find…how wonderful were these
memories. There were no tears, no sad
emotions…just glee over my find. These
beautiful t-shirts brought back many happy memories of my life as it was with
Jeff as a child. All the t-shirts I
saved were from about the time Jeff was maybe 5 or 6 years of age throughout all
his grade school years. I could visualize
him running at different ages to bring me a new shirt from his sports. These same shirts I just pulled out of this
box. He was so proud of these shirts…he
was so proud of being part of something…part of a team.
Jeff was an introvert, his entire life he was quite shy and
never said much if he did not know you.
So as he grew up I tried to change his personality by making him join
all these different sports. In my mind I
figured he would eventually open up to everyone and be outgoing…it never
happened. He was his true self only
around people he knew, and even then he didn’t talk much. As a little boy he was also quite awkward, so
I thought sports would be good for his coordination. As it turned out, sports were good for his
coordination…but did nothing for his quiet disposition. I remember the first time he brought a girlfriend
home (from Colorado), and upon seeing Jeff interact with his old classmates…she
made a comment…
“I have never seen Jeff so talkative. He never talk much, he is so relaxed around
all these people.”
“Of course he is…he grew up with all these people. He feels comfortable and can be himself
around people he has known all his life,” I said to her.
I opened the second box and the first thing I saw was Jeff’s
Judo Gi (uniform)! I pulled out the Judo
Gi and under it were more Gi’s of various sizes…from the time he was young,
very young, to adult…and more t-shirts.
Many more t-shirts. These must
have been his favorite shirts. Among
these shirts were two shirts from ‘Long Valley Plumbing,’ which was Steve’s
business name. Steve had sponsored
baseball teams and thus the t-shirts with his business name. My heart swelled as I held these shirts… as
each shirt was unfolded, I held them close to my chest. The memories flooded my mind. How many times did I see Jeff wearing these
shirts from different Judo tournaments, from baseball, from Jr high school, and
from high school? This was probably why
he saved them…they were primarily from tournaments. “How lucky am I to have all this stuff? Thank you baby,” I said aloud, “I love these!”
I could hardly wait to open the last box…High School
stuff…it was filled with all his high school paraphernalia. All the stuff he had in his bedroom was in
this last box. All the pins he collected
at tournaments. His Judo belts of different colors from all the promotions were
in the box! I had long ago forgotten
about his belts. I, quite frankly,
didn’t even know they were missing. How
could I not have remembered that? I found my baby’s Judo belts…his pride and
joy. Of all the things he was proud of,
he was most proud of his belts! I
remember every time he’d get a promotion he was so happy. So excited…I wish his friends could have been
privy to his happiness on these accomplishments. They weren’t you know…they just did not know
much about his accomplishments in Judo.
All they knew was what was written in the local papers. Or the things they did know were told them
from others…because Jeff was not one to boast about himself. If he was asked the right questions he would
answer.
Oh the memories from all these tournaments. Steve and I went to the majority of his
tournaments, especially if they were anywhere in the northwest states. Steve usually went with Jeff to the tournaments
on the eastern states, but there were time when we just could not afford for us
to go and Jeff would travel alone. If we
were unable to attend a tournament we waited with abated breath with
anticipation on how he did at the competition.
I remember how we awaited word
from him, and when he finally called our first question was, “How did you do
Doob?” If he took first place at the competition
this was his answer, “Oh, I won.” If he
took second or third his answer was, “I got my ass kicked.”
Knowing he was competing at a National level, I would always
say, “Did you medal?” He would say, “Yeah,
but it is not the right color.” He
always had the highest expectations of himself…but he was not one to boast
about his accomplishments.
As I dug deeper into the last box I found all his wrestling medals.
“Doob, I found your medals,” I yelled
aloud! I found 16 wrestling medals from
High School competition, and two gold medals from Judo tournaments. I thought the wrestling medals were long
lost! I immediately remembered the many
conversations I had with Jeff about these wrestling medals.
“Honey, I think I lost your wrestling medals,” I said to him
on more than one occasion.
“Oh,” Jeff would say, “You’ll come across them one day Mom.
Don’t worry, you’ll find them.” Over time the same conversation would
transpire…and Jeff always assured me I would one day come across them. “They are not lost,” he would say. I just knew in my heart they were lost…I
specifically remember having a yard sale where the kids were helping out by
carrying things out for me. I thought
they were accidentally given away at this yard sale. I cannot tell you how many times I physically
looked for them…looked, through every nook and cranny of our home. I am so happy I found them. Plus, to top things off I found a bunch more
t-shirts. I now have enough of Jeff’s
clothes to one day make both Cassie and Sebastian a quilt out of these clothes…how
cool is that? I am just so ecstatic
about my find. How lucky am I to have
all this stuff. All Jeff’s favorite
memorabilia from his youth…he saved.
Among his things was a pair of gym pants from the United
States Olympic Festival, as well as a medal from that special event. The United States Olympic Festival was seen
as a precursor for elite athletes who could possibly qualify as future Olympians. When I
came across this pair of gym pants I
held them tightly against my chest and remembered the day I got the phone call…
I remember answering the ringing phone, “Hello.”
“Hello my name is Jim Pedro.
I am with the United States Olympic Committee. May I speak to Jeff.”
I replied, “Jeff isn’t in right now. I am his mother, how may I help you.”
Mr. Pedro went on to explain the phone call. The Olympic Committee wanted Jeff to attend
the US Olympic Festival which was to be held in a few days, and which meant Jeff
would be gone for five days in San Antonio Texas. He would be back late
Thursday night of the following week.
I did not recognize the name, I did not recognize the enormity
of the opportunity for Jeff, nor did I recognize the importance of the call. “No,
Jeff cannot go.” I said, and went on to
explain. “Jeff just yesterday returned
from competition in Los Angeles, and will be going to Hawaii the Friday after
he returns from San Antonio, if I were to let him go.” I went on to explain the money situation, or
rather the lack of it, and I also told him of my concerns about Jeff being too
tired to compete in all these tournaments if they were back to back…as it was
he would be in Hawaii for training and competition for a week, so if he didn’t
go he would have the rest of this week and next week to rest.
Recognizing my ignorance…Mr. Pedro explained again in more
detail about the great opportunity for Jeff going. And said the Olympic Committee picks up the
bill on everything, and when I still said ‘No,” he said, “Mrs. Castillo, if you
do not let Jeff come to this Festival, I am afraid he will never talk to you
again.” He went on again to explain and
said the US Olympic Committee only takes the absolute top competitor in each
weight category of Judo…in the entire United States! He explained to me Jeff was not the top
competitor, the top competitor in senior competition was injured, the second
best (the collegiate national) could not attend, so Jeff was next in line. Jeff at the time was ranked 1st in
the nation for High School Nationals.
I finally succumbed to Mr. Pedro…making him promise Jeff
would return in time to leave for the competition and training in Hawaii.
That night Jeff, Steve, and I were eating dinner when the
phone rang…it was a reporter from one of the TV news channels. It was he who told Jeff he was going to the
US Olympic Festival…I completely forgotten to tell Jeff of the phone call from
Jim Pedro I had received earlier. This
was big news! Huge!!! Our phone rang off the hook. After explaining to Jeff the entire events of
the day…he said to me, “Oh Mom, he was definitely right…I would have never
talked to you again.”
I wept tears of happiness while holding this red pair of gym
pants tightly to my chest. “My baby…all
these beautiful memories you have left me…I will always remember this day." I will always be grateful for these boxes
full of memories of years passed, of much happier days.
The more things I pulled out the bigger my smile
became. There were stuff animals that
Jeff cherished. One of which was a
gorilla, I remember he brought this up to my sewing room one day while I was
sewing...I think he was 15 years old…maybe 16 years old, “Mom, make a Gi for
him. I want him to have a black belt
with it.” This same stuff gorilla was
in one of the boxes…and was still wearing his Judo Gi, with the black belt I
made. Also in this box was ‘Donald Duck,’
a small stuff toy Jeff played with since he was a year old. All the years he lived at home he had this
duck in his room. All the pins he collected at tournaments were
still on the cork helmet Tina made him years ago. He had football jerseys from both Jr high and
high school saved, as well as pictures of his friends. So
many years have passed since these things were packed away. He never asked me about finding these things….just
every once in a while he would ask, “Mom have you found the wrestling medals? Don’t worry, you’ll find them.”
Jeff knew all along…he always knew he would die young. Every now and again he would talk about death…but
he never told me he had things stashed away for me…for his kids. Never in a million years did I think I would
come across this stuff and be given another chance on remembering all these
happy memories…memories about Jeff being his old self, minus all the pain. How can anyone understand this gift of
memories given me by Jeff? It is almost
as though I opened a time capsule…a container full of happier times…to remind
me, once again, how very much I was loved by this man, by my son. “Don’t worry Mom, they are not lost, you’ll
find them.” Is it a coincidence I found
them almost at the same time I finished working on the Serenity Garden…about
the same time I am finally starting to feel like my old self.
How do I make anyone who reads this understand how very much
I loved my son? How do I make anybody
understand how very much I miss this person who was as much a part of me as my
own beating heart? How it is my heart
still beats without this person in my life?
I know I will never be able to fully make anyone understand the connection
that existed between myself and my son.
My friends tell me it is rare for a parent and child to be so close. Really?
Is this true? I say…how it is
that a parent and child would not be as close as Jeff and I were? Every parent should experience such a
connection. Every parent who has
fathered or given birth to a child should have this same kind of love given to
Steve and I by Jeff, the kind of love
that was without boundary, the kind of love that accepted all our faults as
people…and as parents.
