Compartments

Have you ever tried to reorganize a drawer, a closet or your desk at work? When you are in an act of reorganization you tend to devise compartments for items to be stored in. I believe that we do the same thing with our minds. There are different compartments inside our minds reserved for memories. My mind contains a Pandora's box, and I am afraid that opening it will cause destruction to myself and others. In this box I believe I have thrown all of the memories and images of my mom's last days on Earth. For some reason, these images try to escape the box when I need them to stay put. For instance, when I lay down to sleep, I remember her being sick in her bed, and trying to get her to the hospital. When I am in the shower, I remember how skinny she had become, resembling a holocaust survivor, and how I loathed touching her back for feeling her bones. I also remember the final time I saw her, in the funeral home when the mortician called me back to identify her body.
These images creep out of their compartment and I quickly shove them back inside. There are other compartments inside this box where I can remember the sounds of her cough, which would make me wince and want to run away from the sound. I can remember that hacking cough from the age of 8 until I left for college. To this day, if I hear a "smoker's cough" it makes me want to curl up into a ball. Other images and memories inside this box include tender ones, her smile, her laugh, and the love she showed to her grandsons.
I want to lock this box up and throw it deep inside my subconscious so that I can keep the hurt away. I attempt to do this every time a memory creeps to the surface. My mind has learned to quickly move on from the memory, a defense mechanism I have subconsciously devised over the years to stay sane. I have never had to rely on alcohol to lock the memories away, but the past two years I have had to start taking sleeping meds to keep the dreams away and to allow me to sleep at all. For it is in the silence of the night that sorrow can creep under the covers and wrap its arms around me so that I feel lost in its grip.
My greatest fear for myself is that one day this Pandora's box will open, and there will be nothing that I can do to close it.