Surprise in the Closet

Dying doesn't happen once. 

After the shock of the first death there are many other little deaths. There is no way to prepare for any of these. The further I am from the original deaths: illness, diagnosis, prognosis, battling, wasting, feeding tube, falling, succumbing, the more surprised I am by the march of shadows. 

Remnants in the back of a fridge, in a bag in the back of a closet, medicine that hasn't been dropped off at Alameda County Hazardous Waste with the other. Maybe I thought I would do something with it later. 

Files. Easy to ignore you say. Don't open the draw. Sometimes moving forward requires moving backwards. My file cabinet has eaten me. Medical records. Hospice folders. 

I have an idea about honoring Rich. Though given how painful it is to come across old prescriptions and medical records, his voice on my cell phone, the camera gear, I must be nuts to think about one more exposure. 

When I cleared out stuff that first year, I thought, I could go thru the grief faster. Who wants to drag it out? 

What's left to do of 'the piles of three' ~ toss, unsure, keep, fall into the last two piles.  Paperwork is a first pile. Toss. There in lies the rub. Documentation of 9 months in 2012. A life. 

The only option was doing it.

 So I did a closet too.