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We're friends, not doctors, financial or legal professionals, and we're not "grief experts." But we are here, and we've been "there."

Tuesday the estate liquidator will be here.

I'd thought it would only be partial, but honestly, even with only a couple days left, I'm fairly certain that I can handle the last few boxes and then have it all gone. Two or three loads away from having storage unit entirely emptied.

I woke up from a nightmare, I don't know if I screamed it, or if it was only in my dream. I was screaming, "I just want it DONE! Can't I be done now? I want my life back!"

Don't get me wrong. I miss Howard. I miss him every day. But for *years*, my life has been doctors and bandages and gross wound smell, and now it's *almost* not. I'm almost done with everything that I'm responsible for doing, with the exception of scattering his ashes in February. It's taken MONTHS of going through stuff, bit by bit, week by week, but I'm down to just a couple boxes left to sort.

And, with the exception of two visits right after he died by his family, I've done it alone.

Let the family and Ji duke out who gets to be the "official" executor of the estate. In the end, it's me. Because I'm the one who did what needed doing - just like I've always done. I made sure wounds were bandaged, I made sure doctors were visited... And I'm making sure that his belongings go to where he'd want them to be, going through and sorting it all.

But I'm ready to be done now. I don't want to sort more boxes. I want to move the boxes that I have to the store room, organize them, and forget them until the holidays. I want to paint the walls and clean up the back yard and set up my PC at an actual desk again. I want to spend a whole "weekend" without putting on work gloves. I want MY life again.

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