I just climbed the stairs to the second floor..to our bedroom. Each step I climbed reminded me that Ron climbed these stairs thousands and thousands of times over the past 30+ years. I have lived in this house just under 2-1/2 years, accruing many fewer climbs than Ron, and I am now its lone resident and owner. What is wrong with this picture?
It makes me feel like a fake, a fraud. How is it that I now own this big old house and the 12 acres that accompany it? Who am I?
My one big fear is that I will learn to love it before it can be sold. It will be difficult to leave it anyway, though I don't now love it, because it is the home of our memories. It is the owner of my marriage. It is Ron. He walked every board on these old floors. He touched every surface. He looked out each window and saw the change of seasons for years and years and years.
And now it is me, all alone, who walks the floors, looks out the windows and climbs the stairs to our bedroom.
It's been a tough few days. Today was better. I've had a lot of anger and sadness. I cried, sobbed, screamed and even threw a few things. At the end of yesterday, though, which was a most horrible day, I realized that as bad as the issues are, as much chaos Ron has left in his passing, he also left me a most wonderful legacy, that of good will that I am able to call upon. Everybody has good feelings about Ron: respect, like, love, admiration, high regard. And he was MY guy! By association, I can claim the good will he unknowingly cultivated. I am most lucky.
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