Dumpster No.4 Departs

The dumpster arrived last Tuesday ready to absorb the past, But the garage views it with suspicion.   On the first day, we label boxes 'save', Dump and donate.  By the end of day four, after three loads gone, Dumping is only option.  I was merciless.  Des, I am sure is appalled.  Hope he is over it by the time I join him in our heavenly palace.

Meanwhile the garage has room for my car, suitcases,  a cabinet with tools and more, plus a bottom drawer with old, old letters he saved.  These go back to 1983 when there was major chaos I won't share.  But Yikes!  How we got through that challenge, Only God knows and actually that's who saved our sanity.

I'm saving his office for when I no longer have bouts of sadness, especially  on Sundays.  I have been reading, "Fear"  Essential Wisdom For Getting Through The Storm" by Thich Nhat Hanh.  It is helping me deal with memories  of those Sunday visits to the Mound when after visiting him, guilt followed me home. 

 Hahn reminds us that our memories can cause us real suffering, both emotionally and physically.  Save them for a later time when we can look at them compassionately, he advises.  My true home is in the here and now.  The past is not my true home.  Easy for him to say, I think.

Then I find a Plastic bag labeled 'Dick's handkerchiels for baptisms'  and two neatly folded linen handkerchiefs are in it.  Dick, his beloved brother, and baptisms to remind me of his calling.

Gratitude kicks in about here, and I know what a great ride these 41 years have been.  Last week Sheb Wooley's.  widow, Linda Dotson and I were reminiscing on the phone about what kind of mischief Des and Sheb were up to now.  They were great friends.  Linda  said, "But Weren't we lucky gals to be loved by such wild, crazy guys?"

Absolutely, so says Sassy