I worked on getting the computer desk cleaned up. I didn’t get too far. I came across a post it note that John had written some notes on. Two names I didn’t recognize and phone numbers, some numbers that made no sense to me, and a Chinese order. I have a hard time letting go of things that have his handwriting on it, but I know I don’t need to keep every scrap of paper that he’s ever written on. But sometimes knowing and doing are two totally different beasts.
I didn’t recognize the names… I wondered if they were of any importance at all. I often jot down names and phone numbers for people who I’ll never actually call, but have just in case I ever need it. I wondered if I could ask John if he’d even recognize the names. But I can’t.
The numbers must either have something to do with firefighting or with one of his computer games. Or perhaps they were related to cycling. I don’t know. I’m sure John would instantly recognize them, but he can’t tell me. All in all, it’s no longer important and would never have been important to me anyway and it’s not worth pondering about. But like so many things, it’s gone and I’ll never know, and I can’t ask.
Seeing the Chinese order made me cry. Let me rephrase that- bawl. That used to be our thing… we’d invite friends over and order Chinese. That was a fun evening for us… hanging out with our friends and enjoying Chinese take out.
One of the orders was Chicken and Broccoli. John was a “with broccoli” guy. He liked Beef and Broccoli, Pork and Broccoli and Chicken & Broccoli. Often he’d order two of the three and have a little of both and save some for the next day. Usually he’d supplement with an extra white rice, so he’d have something to eat later with his leftovers.
I’ve tried to put the post it in the recycling three times, but I keep pulling it out. At least it was the recycling and not in the trash!
I talked to one of my friends and she had a good common ground solution… she said, why not incorporate it into a scrapbook since our Chinese dinners with friends were one of the fun things that we did. I liked her idea, although I’m not a scrapbooker. I can probably find a friend who would be willing to do that for me.
So, reason number one million three hundred thousand and forty eight that I’m not making much progress on the house cleaning an organization… I find scraps of paper with John’s writing on it and wonder about the names and their significance and cry about dinners we’ll never have and reminisce about “with broccoli,” and I bawl because we’ll never share those dinners again…
