i'm sure hard to handle

My neighbor across the street has died. It's unfortunate. He died alone. And that's a bummer - almost one of my biggest, most brooding fears. Hell, I'm afraid of driving to Indianapolis alone, so dying goes without saying, right? Anyway, his family is here cleaning out his apartment, trashcan after trashcan, box right after box and it got me thinking, what would people find going through my lifelong belongings. It's an odd thing to think about, everyone rummaging through the things I've treasured in my life. Anyway..

 books. (i mean it, BOOKS) bowls. it's sick how much i like buying bowls. random little notebooks with poems. The X-Files on DVD in collector's sets (season 1-7), fabrics i don't really ever intend on using. cleaning supplies, lots of them. my love letters to and from andy. wrapping paper from last holiday season and the season before that and the season before that. rock band. coats i haven't worn; coats i have. bedding because i really don't think anyone can ever have enough sheets. a rosary that would confuse my mom and friends alike. make-up i have never used; make-up well loved and used frequently... i mean, the list goes on.

I haven't seen my neighbor's family keep anything. And isn't that just heartbreaking? And if this blogpost is anything at all, it's a salute to companionship, to my partner in life. Because my grandparents wouldn't want my copy of American Indian Myths and Legends but, i really do believe, andy would go to war for it if i died. Same thing with that little blue prep-bowl we use daily for our meals that i bought that one time at that store that's out of business now. Or that dumb pillow case with obnoxious poppies on it.

I can't even think it through. I'm going to stop.