Updated: Feb 25, 2019
We all know it, but it's never easy to deal with. We look back at silly moments of anger or love and fixate on items, sounds, smells, anything that brings back just a piece of them.
Here is an item that is tied to death for me. Not necessarily in a sad way, but in a way no less. Also it's probably not an item you would think sparks such a feeling.
As I send this to it's next home, I want to take back the memories I have let it hold on to. Goodbye.
What is it?:
Nintendo DS with Pokemon Fire Red
Where was it?:
I had this tucked into a drawer of a dresser in my basement. I found a number of things tucked into those drawers, alongside scrap papers, cards, and mostly (to be honest) junk.
When was it used last?:
It's been at least 2 years since I have even touched this to move it let alone turn it on.
What memory does it spark?:
When I turned 11 I got a purple game boy color and one game. It was Pokemon Red.
The day before I turned 11 my grandfather died of a heart attack.
I always knew him as a hard working, stubborn man. He was proud of his family. Flirted shamelessly. Made people laugh and smile. Wore a stained white t-shirt and a grey jacket with holes from welding. Smelled like used cotton, hard-earned sweat, and garlic.
He drove a white Mac semi around doing excavating with my dad. I think he would go on runs (gravel, dirt, lunch) any chance he could. He loved talking on the CB radio and would make the girls at the gravel pits laugh as he signed paperwork. He always asked me to ride with him, I always thought it was boring, the seats were hard, and it was loud. I would try to get out of it.
I normally succeeded. I wish I wouldn't have.
I spent the entire day of my birthday hiding inside of this game while everyone else cried. It's the first time I can recall using something to escape.
Every time Nintendo has remade this game or something close to it, I have bought it and beat it within a couple days. It's the only way I know how to play it, for hours on end away from everything else.
I haven't touched this for years. It's not the original game or system by any means, but it holds just as much sentimental weight in my life... but that is just it. It is holding that value, it is not that value. I appreciate it and it's detail to safekeeping. I will take it from here.
As it leaves, I think of it fondly. It helped me cope with a loss I had never felt prior.
Ben Gage is a songwriter from Akron, OH.
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