My father passed away a month ago. He was 90 years and 7 months old. He lived a good full life and was only sick a few days when he passed peacefully.
He left us a little shocked and sad. We take comfort that he didn’t suffer a long illness. He didn’t have to move out of his house. He still drove his car. But now we have to clean out his house. It’s packed with stuff that wasn’t his, wasn’t him. He had started “picking” in the last several years. The house is full of stuff that wasn’t his. Stuff that holds no memories for us. And, it is filled. Filled.
I went to the farmer’s market today. The one I always go to. Collingswood Farmer’s Market. Today was opening day. I spoke to old friends…the farmers. They asked how my winter was. Fine, I replied. I didn’t want to start that conversation. Fine.
Today my husband and I went to my father’s house and emptied one large closet in his bedroom. We took 24 large trash bags of clothes to Goodwill. From one closet. It took most of the day. It was sad. It was hard.
This morning I went to the farmer’s market. In the rain. And I bought the first asparagus, and spinach, and a box of strawberries.
My father passed away a month ago. Both my parents are gone. We’re left to clean up. The end of a life.
This morning I went to the first farmer’s market and tonight….after a shower and some dinner…I’m going to eat strawberries and remember how Spring can feel.
yellow room upstairs 