Jack of Harts

I said last week that I was going to start clearing out my mom’s stuff from her bedroom. I could not. Every time I went into her room, I just froze. I feel almost like a trespasser in her house, and throwing her things away is like throwing her away. I know it’s not true, but it’s how it feels. A friend came over on Saturday and helped me by standing and talking as I pulled out some shoes for donations to charity. It’s a small thing, but also a big thing. Just being there and talking so I can cut through the static and actually do what I needed to do. Which of course is the one thing I never wanted to do.