Left Behind

When a person dies, they go away. But all their stuff stays. Mike's stuff is scattered throughout our house. I try to organize it and get rid of stuff. But I keep finding more stuff. And I must decide what to do with it. Sometimes I just don't have the energy to do anything but move it aside. But each object is a land mine. I can come upon something unexpectedly and it triggers me into a downward spiral. What are they? you ask. His sunglasses. I have pictures of him in full limo driver attire, black suit, white shirt and sunglasses. His tie. He looked quite handsome when he was all dressed up for work. His cell phone. It was very small, about half the size of a deck of cards. I can see him with his hand to his ear talking, knowing that tiny cell phone was there. He never seemed to loose it. His glasses. They were very fragile and almost invisible on his face. But they gave him an air of intelligence and calm. As he was dying he asked if we had found his glasses. He couldn't see very well without them or his contacts. I found them after we cleaned out his apartment. They were tangled in the blanket I had knitted for him years ago. The blanket was on his bed. The glasses were broken and useless. By then he didn't have need of glasses anyway.
Last night I was looking through a little box of miscellaneous things that I keep on my bedside stand. I found a watch he gave me for Christmas years ago. The battery was dead. But I looked at the time anyway. It said, 8:20. I looked over at the clock on the dresser. It said 8:20 exactly! I looked at the watch again for a while. And it was stuck at 8:20. Only once in 12 hours would I look at a stopped watch and see 8:20. But that is exactly the time I looked at it. Perhaps its a signal from Mike.
Well, if it is, Im not sure it is helping me. Cause I feel like crying.