(I think this turned into a story more than a plot... oops. Sorry. >.<)
Mr. Gerard White sighed as he looked around the attic, one filled with dust and memories of his long life. It had been nearly seven years to the day since his wife had passed away, claimed by a cancer that she had been fighting diligently for many years, and he could no longer manage their big, old home by himself any longer. He'd know this for some time but had put off moving for nearly two years now, not because of his aversion to change but because of this attic. The last thing he wanted to do was wade through all his old belongings, sorting through what he would keep and what he wouldn't. There were many memories from his childhood here that he supposed may be nice to reminisce about, but those were the last thing on his mind at the moment. After the passing of his wife Gerard had grieved, as anyone would. He knew she was gone, but still hadn't been able to bear the thought of giving away her things. So, he had packed them away, all in boxes and brought them up to the attic where they had sat, collecting dust for the past seven years.
Gerard started with boxes to the left of the cramped area, ones mostly filled with old things from when he was a young boy so many years ago. It would be easiest to start here, he believed, though trying to sort these boxes alone would be no easy task anyways. His son had offered to help but Gerard had refused the offer. This was something he wanted to do alone.
Quite some time later Gerard had managed to sort through most of the things on the left side of the attic. Very few things had been placed in the black confines of the trash bag he'd brought up with him, but most he had opted to keep, placing them in one of the boxes he'd brought up with him labeled 'keep' in black marker. If he had held onto them this long he saw no reason to throw them away now.
Lacking space on the ends of the attic all of the other boxes were piled on the right side. Almost all of them were filled with memories of his late wife. Taking a deep breath, Gerard contemplated taking a small break. He'd had one a few minutes ago, but another surely wouldn't hurt. He managed to talk himself out of the idea quickly, however, knowing that if he copped out now he wouldn't return himself to the task at hand. Getting to work a little reluctantly Gerard pulled a box towards himself, blowing the collected dust away before opening it. Atop everything else in the box lay a photograph, the black and white picture protected from fading by the frame it had been placed in. Gerard remembered that day it had been taken well, and he found himself smiling at the memory despite the ache it brought to his chest. It had been their wedding day, one of the happiest days of his life.
Slowly looking up from the framed picture after spending a few minutes reminiscing, remembering the day and it's events, Gerard spotted something else of interest. Honestly, he had wondered how he hadn't taken note of it from the moment he's d stepped into the room. There, sitting in the corner with cobwebs almost seeming to grow from it's dusty, tarnished surface, stood an old phonograph. Gerard remembered it well. It had been his father's, and had been constantly playing when he was a child. He had remembered the way it had fascinated him when he was young, but the memories he connected to the rusting object most were of his wife. When they were teenagers and he had danced together to the sound of the old phonograph in his livingroom. On their wedding day they'd had the old phonograph playing for their first dance, and even in old age they'd danced together to their song in their shared home. It had always been something sentimental to the two of them. As Gerard stared at the old music player he felt a wash of emotion. Still, he stood and approached the old device. Still sitting in it's hold was an old, dust covered record that Gerard had come to know well. It was the song he and his wife had adopted as their own. The thick dust that coated the black surface was slowly broken by small droplet of water as tears began to leak from Gerards eyes.
A few hours later Gerard had done all he was able to for sorting through the attic. He had a half-full trash bag and a few boxes of things he had decided to keep. Each were filled to the brim, and he would likely enlist the help of his son to aid him in bringing everything down from the attic. Sitting among those boxes of thing he'd planned to keep sat the old phonograph. Despite all of the memories it held for old Mr. Gerard White he had opted to keep it. How could he simply discard all of the history it held? His history would always be a part of him, something Gerard had learned well. Though he was stepping into a new chapter in his life, one of moving on, he would always hold onto his history. No matter where his future took him, he would always hold onto the past.
