Invisible in QUOTIDIEN

The 30 cu. yd. dumpster was delivered on Friday morning in anticipation of a crew of 7, who would arrive Saturday morning to help plow through David's garage, and throw out what amounted to 30+ years of accumulation.

It took 2 hours. TWO. Like a bandaid, ripped off to shorten the pain, one would think, and to some degree, this applies, though few dare to look more closely at that once protective layer.

By 2pm, the last of my church friends had gone, and my daughter was ensconced in her room, pretending this was just a clean up job for the sake of the buyers.

I received a text from Michael saying 'good morning' near noon. I texted back 'good morning. Rough day, here. Can we talk or see each other later? Really needing a friend and a quiet place.' His response was a non-response, 'I get off at 8.' I assumed I would receive a call shortly thereafter, but nothing.

I went out to hubby's truck - in the dark - and wept for myself, for my losses over these past few months, for trusting too quickly...for believing. A good old-fashioned pity party of one, of extraordinary proportions.

Today, I went through and bagged his clothing. It was all clean - no lingering hubby smell. I also bagged up a bunch of my own stuff. I can't get over just. How. Much. Stuff!!

We are close to the end of packing, at this point. Another 8 hours of dedicated attention, and I load the U-Haul on Thursday. Friday, the last time down the long drive - and no looking back. There will be nothing left of him except for what we retain in our hearts and minds.