I thought I was finally starting to come around again. I guess I was - and I guess I am - and yet grief pops up and blindsides us from time to time, doesn't it?

A couple of Hollister's friends have been helping me with things I can't do around the house. They're challenging friends, these 'bequests' of his. Both are dirt poor and have drug histories (one probably is still using; the other, well, the jury's still out). Right now, I'm coming up on a trip to my Dad's to help with settling his estate. One of Hollister's 'legacies' is helping me to get the house ready for an influx of 'stuff' from my parents' house.

Yesterday, as we worked on cleaning out Hollister's 'man cave,' I had to face donating some of his clothes. I'd gotten rid of some of those, giving them to family, early on. Many were still here - and some still are. After nearly 6 months, it still hit me harder than I expected. I managed to pull most of the clothes out of the closet and pass them to my helper to bag. She loaded the car and we took them to Goodwill.

I made it through that OK, trying to be tough, but when I tried to say something about it - both yesterday and today - I broke down in tears again. I'm not that tough, I guess. This crap hurts.

Grief is one long, lonely road. My sisters are trying to deal with my parents' deaths (most recently my Dad's) and I'm trying to deal with those plus my love's. As I've said before, this sucks. While I feel like I'm doing OK with dealing with my parents' loss, letting go of Hollister leaves me gut-shot. 

There's a comfort in making room, here, for things that remind me of my parents. Letting go of Hollister's things (few and unusable as they are to me) tears me up. It's funny how the small, financially worthless things are the ones I can't let go of. Those things seem to be the most 'them' and the ones that pull at my heart. With my parents, I was happiest to receive the Christmas angel that topped our tree all my years. With Hollister, I won't let go of his worn-out robe that was a gift from his sister. It's funny how the heart works.