Moving On.

 Ed’s house is sold, and the court date to finally end probate is/was today. A document shredding event is finally being put on again by my Thrivent chapter, along with a food drive for the local charitable food pantry, on Saturday. I am boxing and bagging up my own long accumulated  shredding, as well as the last of what I had left from Ed’s. The estate sale/clean up people took care of a lot, but I had stuff to hang on to for a bit, and some to go through. I am, at last, to be released from having custody of it. 

I have pulled everything from the garage and my den, and am checking to make sure there’s nothing of consequence. Lots of old docs of no use, but that shouldn’t be thrown into a recycling bin. One box was of letters and Christmas cards from friends and family, going back to 1970. Mostly nothing major, but still a time capsule of what used to be.  I found out a couple of things I either hadn’t known or had forgotten. He was a conscientious objector, which I’m pretty sure I didn’t know. A number of letters from old high school friends, off at college. Cards from some people I knew back in the beginning of our life together, their friendships with me long past, casualties of our divorce.   A number of letters from his “Gram” (his mother’s mother), then already long a widow, and now long gone.  She sent him money, when his family went through a hard financial time. I remember her as a force of nature, but didn’t really know how much she had helped. 

I had forgotten that he and Mike Flint cleaned office buildings at night while he went to Santa Ana college. Then he went to work for the IRS, and was slowly going to school at night to complete his degree, but never did. He did all right for himself, retiring early, and with an excellent pension. 

I found the docs from when we were looking at buying a historic home for renovation and moving to Anaheim’s Heritage Square, which I had forgotten about. I’m glad we didn’t get it. It would probably still be unimproved, as his house was. 

Anyway, I’m ready to not be custodian of his memories. Day after tomorrow, the bulk of them go. 

Bon voyage.