So what have YOU been up to?
Here, I am moving through my house, cleaning, sorting, saving, donating…and discovering things about my husband of 39 years.
You know, he was home while I was at school. He had time to shop. At times, he shopped on morphine. And so, here and there, I find some curiousity. I ask around. Few can answer: why did he purchase a replacement speaker for his amp and then place the old one in a box and wrap it as a present? No one seems to know.
Why did he purchase an expensive pair of suede Ralph Lauren “boat shoes,” that did not fit him, nor me, nor our son, nor anyone else?
How many bottles of ketchup, gas-perm contact fluid, shaving cream, and frozen cocktails does one need?
I believe that as our lives got complicated, we bought new and shoved in front of old. Maybe.
So as I move through the house, I make decisions and save or discard. We both would prefer to save and donate. That works most of the time.
Then, there are the surprises. Like when my daughter (and niece) was collecting photos for the funeral, she said, “You know, Mom. Dad had pocket knives all over the place.”
I looked at her, confused. “Really?”
And two buddies, standing behind her, nodded. So I am collecting pocket knives, here and there and over/under that.
Last week, several really nice, big muscled guys helped me by cleaning out the attic. There were lots of things up there that must be handled, like box after box of files marked “closed.” The magic number is 7, as in 7 years. This week’s task will include combing through those boxes, saving what must be saved and shredding what can be shredded.
From the attic, they called, “You want everything out?”
“Even the machete and empty ammo belt?”
(These were hidden -- really really hidden, and I’m betting, forgotten.)
I’ve been back and forth to the lake. The first time, with Mom in the car, I got within 10 miles of the cottage when I felt sadness wash over me. It caught me off guard. I realized that this was my first trip to our place, without my guy. Although I’ve done lots of things solo, I know now that I will pass through lots of these firsts as I continue to heal.
On the first trip, we stayed about 30 minutes and then I needed to leave. The second trip, I spent several days. There’s a lot of sorting to do there, also.
And so my days begin with a list of things I’d like to get done. But I’m good to myself. When I get tired, I take a break. When I get really tired, I call it a day.
Ivy is trying to figure out the new routine. We walk every day. We go for car rides. I realized that I am not a ‘dog talker,’ but she’s used to being talked to. So we now talk.
Here, we are healing, reflecting, learning to wake, eat, work, and sleep in our new life. So many of you have asked me to keep blogging so I will. And I will continue to covet your prayers as this new chapter unfolds.