Everything is just like we left it six weeks ago. The tiny house, the cargo trailer and the shop are filled with things that were important to Lou but are now unneeded by us friends. I felt like I was violating something as I packed away his clothing and hung a few of my things in his place. Will a charity take six pairs of well worn shoes? There are framed photos and art on the walls. What’ll we do with that? So much of this will end up in a landfill. At least this is a one-room place, not a four-bedroom house Granny has spent her adult life filling with things she was going to hand down to the grandchildren. And at least there’s no family fighting over it.
Perhaps the weirdest thing so far was sleeping in Lou’s bed. The deathbed. I could’ve slept in the van, but it’s still chilly here and it’s more comfortable in the house. I could’ve swapped my mattress for his, but it was raining.
And the sad part is Lou not being here to ask him, “What do you want to do with this?”
Yah, settling estates brings up all sorts of odd feelings. May it go smoothly.ReplyDelete
You are allowed to feel the feelings.ReplyDelete
Here is a poem that expresses those sentiments (you can find it online). It's called "the House with Nobody in It" by Joyce KilmerReplyDelete
Oh man, this has got to be hard. You guys were the best of friends.ReplyDelete
It's hard, particularly when you knew the person who lived there. I've cleaned out two houses whose occupants had passed on. One was hard, because I knew them, one was easy because we didn't know her well. This is your last gift to Lou.ReplyDelete
I keep having the urge to call or text Lou to chat about some silly thing or another. I hope that urge never fades.ReplyDelete
Can you tell more about the property? City location? Lot size? Listed real estate agencyReplyDelete
I'll leave all that in the hands of the executor. It's not for me to say.Delete
Thanks. Sorry for your loss. I've been keeping track of Lou and you through your blog for a long time. I remember when Jamie did his rig reviews.Delete