Dear David,
It’s garbage day tomorrow, so I channeled a rare burst of energy into cleaning the garage, and hauled many bags of rubbish to the curb. I love you madly, so I can state with impunity to the internet that you were quite slovenly, especially in your bachelor years. I was always getting on your case about being tidier, and I can just hear you now — “We have better things to do with our time than clean!” I grumbled, but you were right. All that time I’d spent cleaning, when we could’ve been doing something fun.
The middle of the kitchen floor is covered with items to take to Salvation Army tomorrow, things which I’m sure you’d forgotten but couldn’t be bothered to throw away. I pick through everything, look at your handwriting, find the occasional treasure amongst the junk — an old 45-rpm record, photo negatives, remnants from your college years. I’m organising them all, so it’s no wonder it’s taking me forever to do these simple tasks.
I might even work up the chutzpah to clean out the BASEMENT, believe it or not. You thought it more than mildly amusing that I was too chicken to go down there without you, so you’d be proud to know I’ve been down there several times in the past month without having to brace myself at the top of the stairs first. The other week I even marched right down and brought the Jenny up the stairs to Bill — he was so impressed I didn’t resort to using the cellar door — without knocking it against the beams. (Don’t worry, I know the JN-4 is your pride and joy, I was very careful. It’s safe at Bill’s place now.) The basement still gives me the heebie-jeebies, truth be told, so I daren’t blow a fuse… but I’m trying to get past this little fear.
There are a lot of things I struggle with from day to day, but I’m slowly learning to live without you by my side and to embrace life a little more. Not a day goes by without me bargaining with the universe to bring you back to me, but I keep plodding on nonetheless. I miss you all the time, but I’m surviving.
Love,
Gail
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