Day 1

Boxing: 0/6

Pain: 0/4

Exhaustion: 0/3

First Morning 

Work Roll: 1, 1, 3

Boxing: 1/6

Pain: 2/4 

Exhaustion: 2/3

I started with the mundane things, pens, paper, tape etc, that were all kept in the secretary in the corner. These were the easiest to get rid of. All of them were at least a decade old and by the time I realized that these were things easily discarded and I was wasting time not getting anything important done I had already packed them all into a box. 

I moved over to the mantle where all of our pictures were on display, ranging from highschool to college graduation, a few wedding photos and other family gatherings. No one was here besides me. Jim was out of the country, and Sarah was dealing with a new baby. I was the only one able to come to the house to pack it before the creditors came. 

All of these went into a box, in between the packing paper and peanuts, and it was then that I had the realization that all of this would need to go down the front steps and into the truck. I had better pack each box lighter than what I had thought. 

I rented the uhaul the first thing in the morning after my 6 hour drive to get here. I felt numb and started to shake when packing each of the photos inside the box. It was the coffee I kept telling myself. 

First Evening 

Work Roll: 2, 3, 1

Boxing: 2/6

Pain: 4/4

Exhaustion: 4/3 

I moved to the kitchen next. All of mom's fine china, the one she refused to let us use, was tucked away in the tiny little cabinet above the fridge, nearly impossible to reach even with a ladder. It was slow moving and I was too afraid to carry more than one plate down at a time.

What if I dropped one? What if it broke into a million little pieces and I couldn't find them all? She'd be so disappointed in me. Why wouldn't she let us use them? What's the point of them if they are hidden away all the time?  

It was all I could do the entire evening. One plate at a time as the setting sun turned the wallpaper from a dull orange to a bright red. 

When the creditors take back the house as repayment on its own loan, they'll probably re-paint everything. The stains from where we spilled drinks all over the floor. The dent from the cereal bowl where it hit the wall after I tripped. All of these small flaws will be smoothed out for someone new to make their own marks. 

I couldn't taste the pizza I ordered. It just felt like grease in my mouth. 

First Night 

Rest Roll: 3, 5

Boxing: 2/6

Pain: 4/4

Exhaustion: 1/3 

I couldn't bring myself to sleep in my room. I wasn't a child. But I could sleep in the master room either. It smelled too much like her. And so I slept on the couch. It hurt. My back wasn't what it was when I was younger and I knew I would be feeling it in the morning. But nothing else seemed right either. 

I remembered falling asleep in front of the tv when I was a kid, and being woken up by my parents to go into my bedroom. I remember seeing on tv how parents used to carry their kids up to their rooms when they did this. Mine never did. I felt unloved at the time, but looking back I think was just too heavy. 

Second Morning

Breakdown 

Boxing: 2/6

Pain: 0/4

Exhaustion: 1/3

I couldn't ddo anything but look up at the popcorn ceiling. It was terrible. I felt as though the pieces could fall off and hit me on the face at y moment. I read somewhere on the internet that it was a sign of cheap and low quality material. Or maybe it was simply a tacky trend. 

But it didn't matter, wondering about the ceiling was keeping me from wondering about her. What was she like in her final moments? I would never know. I wasn't there and I couldn't have ever been there. 

I tried not to think about how, despite my efforts, no one was with her when she passed. I tried. The shapes in the ceiling formed her face. I looked away. The shapes on the wall formed her silhouette. I looked away. Outside it was turning to noon. Everything feels too cold. Even the sun looks cold. 

Second Evening 

Boxing Roll: 6, 6, 4 

Boxing: 4/6

Pain: 0/4

Exhaustion: 1/3

Her bedroom. I opened the window. The air was cool, but I had expected to work up a sweat. Everything was so much. I couldn't touch the bed. She had died here completely alone, listening to the groans and creaks of the house settling. 

I wasn't told if it was in her sleep or if she was awake. I don't think I want to know. Knowing wouldn't make a difference. 

It would have been so much easier and so much less effort to palace all the items on the bed while I unpacked her clothes. But I couldn't. Everything went right from their place into a box. 

The nightstand was still there. The one that I kicked when I was 10. I remember so clearly being angry for.. I don't even know. But I kicked it and sent the lamp flying into my dad's face. It broke on him and there was so much blood. 

He was fine, but for a moment we thought he was going to die. Face wounds bleed a lot, a lot more than what you think is possible and there was so much blood before the ambulance arrived. 

We laugh about it… everyone else laughs about it… but the scar was visible until the day he died. 

Second Night

Rest Roll: 2, 3 

Boxing: 4/6

Exhaustion: 1/3

Pain: 1/4

I couldn't sleep on the couch again. I couldn't sleep where she died. I couldn't sleep in my old bed, so I opted for Sarah's room. She was always much tidier than Jim when we were kids. 

At least I tried to sleep. I found myself wandering up and down the halls over and over again. Looking at the photos and then lying down again. Then looking at the photos. Then lying down again. 

I wonder what Sarah is thinking right now. I wonder if she's thinking of Mom. I can't blame her if she isn't. She's so busy with the baby. Only three days old when we got the call. Mom never even got to meet her. 

Third Morning

Boxing Roll: 4, 3, 1

Boxing: 5/6

Exhaustion: 2/3

Pain: 3/4

I don't know when my joints all started to creak. Every morning when I wake up, a cacophony of clicks and bumps and scrapes of my joints against my bones. Sometimes I think I should go to the doctor. But I can't afford that. Who can? 

Today was the day I went back to the pens and sticky notes, the tape and all the other things I thought I had missed since they were unimportant. The things that I had started to put away the first day until I realized that I needed to think more about the important things. Once that was finished I moved to the hallways. 

I took down the photos I had stared at last night. I saw the wedding photos. The ones from my sister. The ones from my brother. None for me. Never any for me. It wasn't something I needed and not one that I wanted. 

And then there was my bedroom. It was mostly sparse. I had taken everything I needed when I moved out the first time. There were some old trophies, some old exam papers, some old clothes that no longer fit. 

None of them I wanted except the ribbon from the third grade spelling bee. It seemed trite, but Mom was so proud. She was smiling the entire week, and bragged about me to all the neighborhood. She was so happy. 

Final Evening

Boxing Roll: 4,1, 4

Boxing: 6/6

Exhaustion: 5/3

Pain: 4/3

Her bed will be gone the next day. I suppose it's for the best. I can't touch it. I can't touch the sheets or any of the furniture in the room. 

Everyone else's beds and mattresses will also be left behind, but it's not the same as her's. No one died in those sheets.

The creditors will be here in the morning, and I must be out by then. I spent the final evening putting everything into the uhaul and driving to a cheap motel. 

It's good to be out of the house. I can't help but feel there is something missing (besides her) that still lingers in that house. What forgotten trinket, or photo, or markings etched into the wall that I don't have a photo of. 

Try as I might to document the house with my phone, there will always be something forgotten. Something that Jim or Sarah knows or cares about that I have no knowledge of and never will. 

I'm tired and I finally feel as thought I can sleep.