We’ve been doing some thorough cleaning around the house lately due to uninvited guests that stayed with us a few weeks: mice! First, Husband and I cleaned out the garage and found what had attracted them in his backcountry bag. He had left some energy bars in there on the bottom shelf of a unit, and OMG, we had to throw that bag out!
My anxiety has been a little higher than usual lately, especially the night we caught a mouse in the house. Also, one of my employees has been sick, and I’ve been so concerned! My mind goes immediately to cancer. The doctor she saw said gastritis, so I felt hugely relieved last Thursday. Up until then, I had trouble sleeping and decided to clean under the kitchen sink one night last week.
I had noticed droppings when getting the counter spray out. If I could have thrown out the underneath area of our kitchen sink, I would have! I had stored loose grocery bags down there, and they provided some great cover for those critters! I sprayed bleach and water mixture on everything, wiped up the floorboard dotted with droppings, then wiped the bottles stored under there, then the floor where the bottles had been while I cleaned. I get a little nutty sometimes about cleaning. Cleaning sufficiently tired me out and calmed my mind that night. I went to bed around 12:45, about 3 hours after I like to be asleep.
In the home office, Husband resituated our filing cabinets, so we can access them now. I had a box in the closet to unpack and decided this past Sunday that it was time. My good art supplies, paints and pencils, went in the top, and paperwork went in the bottom. I opened an unmarked, 9×12 envelope. Woof. It had a bunch of estate documents for Ex’s estate, not that there was much too it but a ton of debt.
The envelope also had a copy of the note he had left the morning he died.
Seeing his writing and unhelpful words stirred up some grief. Thinking about it now makes my eyes water.
“[Named friend] get all my tools and [the dog], if Little Guy can’t have him.
Bury me in the mountains.”
Yeah, for effing real.
I went to the bathroom and cried as quietly as I could. When I calmed down, I texted another widowed friend for support. Normally, I just grieve alone, and I’ve realized that I don’t have to. I have people.
Husband had been putting together another shelving unit in the garage and organizing more. He came in a little after I had calmed down. He took one look at me, I nodded, and he came over and put his arms around me.
I told him that I had run across Ex’s note. He said, “Oooh, that’s a lot!” I agreed. We sat down together and I explained that it reminded me of how frustrated the note made me feel. It just didn’t explain anything. I feel bad for Ex. He didn’t have an easy life, and he didn’t seek out help either. Also frustrating. He felt less-than a lot of the time, and other times, he could be so superior, like when it came to his work.
My husband asked me, “How old were you when you met him?”
I was 19, had just gotten my driver’s license and was about to graduate with my undergrad degree. He was 32, almost 33. Sigh. The foolish things we do when we’re young. I was so stubborn.
Husband then said, “If my sister were that age and dated someone that much older, what would you say?” (His sister is in her 30s. It was just an example.)
I was like, “I know. I know! No one was going to tell me ‘no’ or what to do at that time in my life.”
Anyway, we got married just after I turned 21, which I don’t recommend to anyone! We had Little Guy five years later. Got divorced 3 years after that, then Ex died 6 months later right after I had turned 30 and Little Guy had turned four.
I told Husband that I was glad for everything that I’d been through because it got me to where I am now. Who I am now. And I’m pretty dang happy!
Oh, and my friend called me back about an hour later. We had a good chat about things that we find that then whack us over the head with temporary sadness.
A couple days later, yesterday, I wondered why I’ve kept Ex’s note for so long. I suppose for Little Guy. Do I have to? I’ve told him a lot, and I think Little Guy would find the note as cold and unhelpful as I do. Why don’t I just let it go?
I think I’m going to let it go. It’s not like I’ll forget it. I have it documented elsewhere. Here, for example. I won’t have to worry about opening that envelope, which I have now labeled!
Just let it go.
I feel lighter having made that decision.