I always thought I would never be such a sentimental piece of work.
Yet, here I sat. In the midst of my husband's posessions, wondering how I got here.
Of course I knew how, I will never forget that day. The day they stole him from me. The day I officially lost the man of my dreams because of a doctor who got stuck in traffic. Tears welled up in my eyes as I touched one of his work ties.
He always looked so handsome at work.
Wondering why I kept living like this, my mind and eyes wandered around our bedroom.480Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡde4uePoxSu
It was strange, almost everything, I had picked out all of our furniture. Except from those obnoxious yellow curtains. They'd gotten old and dusty over the course of our marriage, the colour drained by the sunlight.
I liked everything to be clean and white, Ben didn't. He was such a colourful person, truly a ray of sunshine on my pale, monochrome life.
My phone rang.
Lance480Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡduxhEn4w0C
"Mom? How' s it going? We'll be over in about an hour if that's okay?"480Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQg2sw3z3bh
An hour? I didn't have much time left. I was surrounded by boxes that were all nearly empty.
"Oh sweetheart, I am nowhere near ready," I trailed off. Not ready packing, not ready for any ot this. Not ready to be this alone, to be the widow everyone dodges.
"I know," Lance sighed.
Our son was born out of pure love. We'd only be together for about a year when I suddenly didn't get my period anymore. I was eighteen and pregnant.
Who'd have thought my son would only know his father for thirty years? I was always quite fond of the image of my husband with his grandchildren. Unfortunately, my son was as much of a workaholic as his father was and was not even close to settling down.
Lance and I had an extremely good bond. He had bought a condo a couple of years back and one in his building came up for sale.
I didn't really like the idea of leaving this place.
My home.
We'd made so much memories in here. I rationalized that that was all this was: memories tied to a bunch of bricks.
I was scared that once I stepped out of the box of bricks, the memories would fade. I'd seen it with my mother. The minute she set foot in the nursing home, I felt guilty. My mother was a very emotional person. She stuck to objects that sparked a memory.480Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2dm4K2Wzb2
Always thought that I would never do this.480Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqYoRJtdFiS
I suddenly had an epipheny. What was I doing here again? Living in a shadow of what once was my happy, cherished life. Instead, I could be starting a new life. I needed to, to heal and grow as a person. Make new memories for myself. Make it hurt less.480Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbeS7QAW9u6
The empty rooms here, the chair he used to sit in and the basement full of Ronald's stuff made it so much worse. Made me worse, pained. I could be living in the same building as the son I am so proud of. We'd be close, I'd be close. He could help me when I needed him and I could take care of him when he needed me.
It would be better for all of us.
"You know what? I am ready, hun. I'll be ready when you get here," I told my boy and put my phone down.
Standing up, I took the box that held our photo albums and threw in what made me smile and think of Ronald.
His engraved pen and pair of sunglasses that I found on the kitchen counter
His flannel he used to wear when mowing the lawn, that hung on the doorknob to the laundry room
And the dusty, old curtain hanging in our bedroom.
He loved it, and I love him. Nothing else mattered.
ns 15.158.61.12da2
