June 26
I don’t know if I can do this for six more weeks. I don’t know if I want do this for six more days. Please God, please make this stop. I don’t care how. Just please stop it.
I put together a just in case box. I gathered my will, insurance, burial wishes, and pictures of me and Logan in a box under my bed. I want everything to be together so that no one has to worry and make those decisions later.
I remember how hard it was after Dad. No one knew where anything was or what he wanted. I remember having to answer questions and make decisions a thirteen year old shouldn’t have to make.
I wanted to leave instructions and messages about the important things. I wanted to be sure nothing was lost or missed. I need to take an inventory of everything in the house and explain each item’s significance and who should keep it after me.
There was a little picture of Allie with Mom and Grandma. Mom was wearing a blue and white cotton dress and Grandma a green striped dress. Grandma was wearing red lipstick. I think everyone wore red lipstick then, even Grandmas.
Allie was about twelve months old, a big, chubby baby with red hair. Mom’s hair was still dark. It wasn’t long after that picture was taken that Mom started dying her hair. She loved Allie’s hair so much she took Allie to a salon and had her hair dyed to match.
The top of my head is barely visible at the bottom of the picture, cut off by the camera. Even then the world revolved around Allie.
I put a yellow sticky note on the back of the picture.
Allie,
I know you always hated your hair growing up, but Mom loved it so much, she had hers dyed to match yours. Love Jo
I deposited the picture in an envelope with her name on it and placed it in the box.
Next I picked up a spiral notebook, brown with pink flower. I didn’t want a yellow tablet or a plain spiral notebook, nothing generic. I wanted everything in this box to be an expression of my personality, so that, if later didn’t come, anyone looking in this box would have a sense of who I was.
I began my inventory in my spiral notebook. This was an inventory of my worthless things and what they mean to me. So that maybe when I’m gone, someone will understand and cherish them too. I think everyone should have a just in case box.
***
Item #1 – Fondue pot
I love chocolate and cheese, separately, not together. What’s better than something you can use for both? Allie, this is yours. You are the only one I know who loves cheese almost as much as me and maybe loves chocolate a little more.
You’re going through a very hard time, and I wanted to tell you that others are walking with you. I like your idea to get things organized in this piece. That’s a good thing to do, and too many people don’t have the stark reminder of illness to get this done.
I watched my wife go through chemo and radiation — three times. And she’s still here. I would watch her climb the stairs, stubbornly, pausing after a step or two to rest. But she never quit climbing. There were many days where she wanted to, believe me. Just like you. But it eventually ends. And you will look back and wonder how you ever found the strength. You’re not alone.
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Thank you for your kind comment. This is based on my experience from an illness I had many years ago. I happy to say, I’m past that. Dee
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I’m relieved to hear it. 🙂
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Great idea. I still have the first dollar I earned. (spent all the rest) I think I’ll put it in there.
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Hi John. You crack me up. I don’t even think I have the first dollar at this point. Thanks. Dee
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My mom saved it and framed it. She was so proud.
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