All that remained of her...
He sets her photograph in the box. Her smiling face beamed at him from the picture he took of her on their honeymoon in Santa Fe. He placed the album in after leafing through the pages. Each still scene portrayed the beauty that she was, and the love he thought they had. No tears stained the faces of the two-dimensional images, for the pain in their marriage was much less obvious.
The bundle of love letters from the closet was the next to join the photographs. She had saved each letter he had written while he courted her, and they had read them aloud to each other every anniversary for the past 23 years. It was their special way of reaffirming the love they'd felt for each other before they passion took over that night.
She left the teddy bear he'd won for her at the carnival last August. She had always loved that bear... and had named it after him. As "Daniel" landed with a thud on the bottom of the brown box, he felt his breath knocked from his chest as well. He found himself wondering if this was just an odd coincidence or if she still had power over him when she was hundreds... (thousands?) of miles from his arms.
Her old flannel nightshirt still captured her scent. He held it to his face, deeply inhaling the sweetness he would never smell again. Then it joined the other memories in the box. He tossed in their marriage license, and the newest letter from her divorce attorney. Then he worked the golden band off his index finger and set it on top.
In the backyard of the house where they'd loved, he set the box afire. He stood beside it warming his fingertips on the material possessions they'd made in almost a quarter century of life together.
The letters of love burned quickly... then the teddy's fabric, and her cloth nightshirt, and the photographs. Even after all else was mere ash, the golden ring refused to decay. He stared at it, realizing that the memories in his mind of her would never tarnish. Their life as one had ended, but his love for her was eternal.
