I’ve been making slow progress on organizing the house. It’s fascinating though. I keep finding things that I thought I’d gotten rid of years ago.
I knew I had Annie’s yearbooks, sure, but I didn’t realize I had mine. They were on the bottom of a bookshelf in my office, hiding in plain sight.
I flipped through the pages. I’ve lost touch with so many people. Some, though, I know are dead. Drugs, accidents, and disease. I feel like I’m dying young, but I’ve lived longer than many people get to. I should be more grateful for that.
I found Brendan’s wedding ring. I would have sworn he was buried in it, but there it was in an envelope in my jewelry box. I put it on. It fits my thumb.
I want Annie to have the ring. I wrote “Your Dad’s Wedding Ring” on the envelope to make sure she knows what it is, and went into her room to put it in her jewelry box.
I don’t go in Annie’s room much when she’s not here. Despite my parental assertions that this is “my house,” I do like to respect her privacy.
Being in her room made me think of her. It was nice. Comforting. Almost like she was here. I laid on her bed for a moment, then I was asleep.
What happens next? Read the next part of the story here.
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