“Dad, what the hell?” Debbie asked as she came from the master bedroom into the living room where her father was sitting on the sofa reading a book.
“What is it, Debbie?” Ted asked, looking up from his book.
“You haven’t gotten rid of any of Mom’s stuff,” Debbie said. “All of her clothes are still in the closet and even her sneakers and dumbbell hand weights are on the carpet next to her treadmill. I thought you were going to donate all that stuff to Goodwill.”
“Yes, I still plan to,” Ted said.
“Dad, Mom died six months ago,” Debbie said. “But even her toothbrush, hair bushes, and cosmetics are still in the bathroom. What’s going on with you? What are you waiting for?”
“It’s hard, Debbie,” Ted said. “We were together for nearly 25 years and I miss her terribly.”
“I know, Dad,” Debbie said, “but you need to move on with your life. I’ll call Bob and he and I can stop by this weekend, pack up her clothing, and take it to Goodwill for you.”
All of it?” Ted asked.
“Well, we won’t take her jewelry to Goodwill,” Debbie said, “and if there are a few other mementos of hers that you want to keep, tag them. But seriously, Dad, you gotta let go of the rest of this. It’s time.”
Written for Roger Shipp’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner. Photo credit: MorgueFile April2020.