Monday, February 14, 2011


I dont want to do this.

I'm sittng on my Gramma's couch. The same one she's had for the last 15 years. And it feels like I'm 5 years old and sitting on her lap.

I want this couch. Of all the things we will pack into the truck, I want this old, lumpy couch. Because there are memories on this couch.

We talked about my first crush on this couch. She met my first real boyfriend on this couch. Many late-night chats happened on this couch.

Looking around, i see where some things have gone missing. A VCR, an antique radio, the blue satin chair to name a few. It's amazing to me how some things managed to walk away.

It doesn't matter. It never has. I just wish there were more honor, more reverence for the woman who shaped all of our lives.

My dad is here and my mother's husband too. They will do the heavy lifting. And I? I'll be rifling through her letters and boxes of opened mail. I've never seen more paper clips and unmailed checks in my life. Why didnt somebody buy her stamps?

There is a closet full of clothes and coats and a bathroom filled with paper towels and napkins and cleaning products. So much stuff. So much clutter that has to be gone through so that we can find and pay her final bills.

I know that this isn't how she wanted to leave things. But this is the hand we've been dealt. I just wish i was handling it better.
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  1. I'm sorry is not enough. All I can say is I'm here.

  2. i know it's hard. You'll pull through. Prayin for you chicka.


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