Page 34 of Life After Me

I shoved them away harder and tried to ignore them.

Jenn’s message was crystal clear, but there’s no way I was ready to get rid of her things.

I know she’s probably right, that it’s silly to keep everything.

She’s never going to need any of it ever again, but I still didn’t want to get rid of anything.

It felt like I would be throwing her out of my life as well, clearing her away like unwanted rubbish, when nothing could be further from the truth.

I don’t want to get over her. I’m scared that if I do, it will mean I didn’t really love her enough.

I kept ignoring the issue and refusing to talk about it, even though I could feel Jenn getting more and more impatient around me.

I should have paid more attention. I nearly knocked myself out by walking into a cupboard door she’d opened.

But even that wasn’t enough to make me start clearing Jenn out of my life.

It took a visit from Lottie to make me see things differently. By the time she’d made it to the kitchen, she had a handful of those awful black bags.

‘You know, Dad, maybe you should take the hint. Don’t you think it might be time you thought about clearing out a few wardrobes and drawers and stuff? It’s been eight months.’

‘She was my wife for nearly three decades,’ I complained.

‘I know, Dad, but do you really think throwing out a few old jumpers and T-shirts will change that?’

‘I don’t want her to think I’m throwing her out,’ I argued.

‘But it was her idea,’ my daughter pointed out, irritatingly calm and logical. How could she be so unaffected by the thought of throwing her mother out of our lives?

‘Dad?’ She wrapped her hands around mine and I couldn’t help but stare at the zebra-striped nails. How did she get the stripes so perfectly even? Why didn’t the colours run together and turn to a murky grey?

‘This is what Mum wants. Either that or she’s after you to take up litter picking. I don’t really think it’s that, do you? I think she’s right. It’s time for this.’

Warmth wrapped around us and I found myself nodding as Jenn’s perfume filled the air. ‘I know it is. I just really don’t want to do this.’

‘I know.’ Lottie gave me a crooked grin. ‘I get that. I’ll come over and help, OK? I’m not going to let you do this by yourself.’

I wrapped my arms around her and rested my chin on top of her head. The sad thing is, I think I’ve hugged her more in the last eight months than I did in the eight years before that.

* * *

‘Hey, Dad.’ I winced as the door slammed and Lottie’s voice echoed through the house. It had only been a few days since the conversation about black bags and donations, and I really didn’t want to see her today. ‘Dad, where are you?’

I studied the paper in front of me and tried to concentrate on the headlines, but the words kept swimming in front of my eyes. I still didn’t feel even close to ready to do this.

‘Dad, didn’t you hear me calling?’ Lottie grinned and dumped a pile of boxes and bags on the conservatory floor. How could she be so cheerful when she was about to throw away her mother’s life?

‘Hey. You’re here early.’

‘Yeah, we’ve got lots to do.’ She stared at me for a few seconds. ‘Come on, Dad. I know you’re not really reading that paper.’ She sighed sadly. ‘I’m not looking forward to this any more than you are, but it has to be done.’

‘I don’t want to get rid of her.’ I sounded like a whiney teenager, but I didn’t care.

‘As if you could.’ Lottie pulled a black bag off a shelf and I wondered when Jenn had stuffed it there. I didn’t remember seeing it when I got up. ‘This is her idea, and she’s right. You’re never going to be able to move on when you’re surrounded by the past.’

‘I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to let her go.’

‘Dad, we’re talking about clothes and bags and shoes she’s never going to need again. She’s the one telling you to clear this stuff out. I don’t think she’s going to leave us because you empty a few drawers.’

Warmth filled the room and I could feel Jenn in the air behind me. Clearly she agreed.

* * *

Jenn

It’s painful watching people pick through your life and throw it away, even if it is your husband and daughter doing it at your request. But it needed to be done.

David’s been hanging on to things far too fiercely.

It isn’t healthy to live so much in the past, and I think that’s why he’s been feeling so down lately.

So this had to be done. No matter how much it hurts me.

It was hard on them too. I could see David’s fingers shaking as he reached for the first drawer. He sighed sadly and stared at our faded wedding photo sitting on top of the drawers. I wrapped warmth and reassurance around him, and nudged him gently.

I promised myself that I wasn’t going to let any of my family waste their lives by living in the past and staying trapped in their grief.

For David that meant doing this. I had felt him pulling away from me and starting to slip back down that dark slope towards depression.

As much as this was hurting him and Lottie, clearing out my clothes was the first step David needed to take in moving on.

Even though he didn’t believe it, I knew he was ready to make this step.

But still, it was hard watching them do it.

I thought I’d reached the point where I was getting used to seeing sadness on their faces, but I don’t think there is anything that could ever make me immune to the grim sorrow on Lottie’s face.

She tried to smile and reassure her dad, but the sentiment never reached her eyes.

I thought she was going to cry when she pulled out the first top, but she straightened her shoulders and shoved it firmly into a bag.

My heart swelled with pride as I watched her help her dad through the first, hardest steps. Their faces stayed grim, and every so often one of them would pull out a skirt or scarf or jacket that triggered a memory, and tears or smiles would chase across their faces.

It’s always horrible watching the people you love cry, but it got better as they finished the drawers and moved on to my wardrobes. There was less sadness in the air, and more smiles at fond memories that flashed into their minds as they sorted through my clothes.

If anything, it felt cathartic.

* * *

David

Five hours later I tied the last bag shut and added it to the pile in the hall.

It actually hadn’t been as bad as I feared.

The first drawer was agonisingly hard. Every top I pulled out seemed to contain a whiff of Jenn’s perfume and another memory that was waiting to slam me back into a world where she still existed.

I don’t think I would have got through it without Lottie’s help. She has been brilliant.

In a strange way, it was nice. It felt good to tidy the place up, and there were a lot of happy memories that Lottie and I shared.

Things I thought I had forgotten that came rushing back so easily.

I just hope they don’t fade away again. I don’t think they will because now I know how precious they are, so I’ll hold on to them more tightly.

I folded away the last thing I couldn’t bear to part with — a silky black dress that Jenn had always looked fantastic in — and grabbed the final box to take downstairs.

‘No, not this one.’ Lottie tugged it from my hands. ‘This one’s mine, if that’s OK.’

‘What on earth, Lottie?’ I stared at the pile of stuff overflowing her box. ‘You’re supposed to be clearing this stuff out, not just moving it to your place. You don’t even have room for all this.’

‘I don’t care.’ Lottie shrugged. ‘I just need it.’

‘If it’s not healthy for me to keep this stuff, it really isn’t for you.’ I spotted a familiar bit of fabric. ‘This tablecloth is ruined, what can you possibly want it for?’

‘It’s only a little stain.’

‘Right in the middle.’

‘I don’t care.’ My daughter snatched the bundle of checked blue and yellow fabric back and carefully smoothed the creases out of it. ‘I really want this stuff, Dad. Just... please don’t ask me why, all right?’

I stared at the odd mix of things she’d picked out and shrugged. If it meant that much to her, she could take them.

* * *

Jenn

I was worried about Lottie, so I followed her home.

As well as the box she’d taken from her dad, there were another two bags of my things in her car.

And she was acting very strangely. She waited until her flatmate had gone out for the evening before fetching the stuff in.

She emptied everything out all over the floor, and poured herself a huge glass of wine before settling down in the middle of the piles of fabric.

She took a much too large gulp of wine and stared around at the bundles sadly.

She fingered a soft-looking corner of green fluff.

Was that my other dressing gown? She’d already claimed my purple one as her own, so why did she need the other?

What on earth was she up to? I watched as she squared her shoulders and picked up an old yellow apron that was dotted with tiny purple flowers.

She buried her face in it for a few seconds, then smiled.

‘Mum? Are you here?’

Of course I am, Lottie. As if I wouldn’t be. I wafted perfume around her to let her know I was listening.

She smiled gently. ‘I hoped you’d be here. I guess this means Dad is OK?’

I added warmth to the air and wrapped my arms around her shoulders to answer her question. She shivered slightly and smiled as some of the fabric stirred around her feet.

‘You know, I remember you taught me how to bake wearing this. I wonder how many dozens of birthday cakes this old apron has seen, and how many thousands of biscuits and scones it’s baked over the years.’