It seems that I am destined to spend a great deal of time pulling the threads of my father's life and death together. This week I moved as much of his things out of his apartment as I could find storage for. Now our closed-in porch is storage. I still have a great deal of work to do. Some items need to be sold just to recover the cost of the move. It costs an amazing amount to move his things 90 miles. Imagine a far greater move. How do people afford such moves?
In any event I am still dealing with his life and not my own. My life keeps pulling at my sleeves. People I have worked with keep asking and I have to say "I don't know." This is all much harder than I could have ever imagined. The physical problems are hard, but the emotional ones are hard also. Just before the move I stayed one last night in his apartment. All I can say is that the ghosts of my family haunted my sleep. My Grandfather, my Mother and now my Father all died in that house. I grew up in that house. A whole chapter of my family's life has come to an end.
Thursday I make one last journey there to finish cleaning and picking up remnants. I will leave the keys and it will be finished. I will feel relieved but sad.
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