Journal: 04/24/06

Finally, a day off, but not to dwell, only to clean and sort. I never did get the laundry done, but I did get it ready to go. I’ll do the washing and drying some evening at work. It was a generally lazy day reading the newspaper, watching some uninterrupted television and eating the great dinner of turkey legs that Bill came up with. We didn’t play cards as I was tired and, after all, it was my day off. Bill complained that I was going back to my ways as a "hermit," but I pointed out that even when Joann was alive, she and I would sit and actually watch our favorite TV shows. I noted that when you work six days or so in a row dealing with guests at the front desk, you need a break from people. Joann understood that and was content to sit and space-out in the evening with me. Nothing hermit-like there, she and I both respected each other’s space, and that was one of the underpinnings of our successful relationship.

"Housecleaning"

The "housecleaning" is complete, or at least as much so as it’s going to get for a while. I attacked all of Joann’s hiding places where she had stashed clothes and hair-care supplies. She had a lot of clothes and shoes, and not just because she was a woman. Her mother brought a whole carload of things of Joann’s from Modesto when we were married. Joann never sorted through them and they lay in piles in our walk-in closet in the old apartment. When we had to move into a single room during the motel renovation, the clothes and shoes wound up in plastic garbage bags that we stored in the empty motel poolroom. After we moved into the new Snug Harbor, some of Joann’s things in storage migrated into empty spaces in the apartment. These were the clothes, shoes and other detritus that I was going after. The remaining bags in storage Bill and I sorted through and pitched a week after she died. Also, I was looking for some things like Joann’s memory book that Bill started keeping for her shortly after we moved into the old apartment upstairs, and where she kept every holiday and birthday card she ever received, as well as her marriage certificate and other mementos.

I found Joann’s memory book under her side of the bed after exhausting all other hiding places. I also cleaned out the laundry, the bottom of the closet, under the sink in the bathroom, and anywhere else I could think of. Two hours and five beers later, the job was finished with three large leaf-and-lawn bags full of clothes and other stuff in the garbage. I consoled myself that these were belongings Joann would never have found a home for and even though I assured her through our downsizing moves that she would never lose anything, that held only as long as she was alive. She had no use for these things now, and she didn’t in the past either. She had merely wanted to keep comforting and familiar things close because she had lost so much before in her lifetime.

I guess I made it through the "housecleaning" process okay and I wound up with several empty plastic containers I can use for other things. I simply went straight ahead and tried not to think much about what I was doing. Nevertheless, I still found myself recalling Joann’s passion, obsession, for her hair. She told me many times that due to her disease, caring for her hair was the one thing she had left that she could control. She’s gone now and so are the half-empty bottles of hairspray, coloring, curlers and nail files, but not the memories of the war she waged daily with her beautiful blonde hair. I kept one plastic crate of her things thinking her son David might like to find that special sweater of hers he thought he might want. There’s also a red lap blanket that Rose wants, and three books that go back to the Harrison Library in Carmel.

Looking At What Remains

There are still many pieces of Joann left in the apartment, primarily her childhood desk and typewriter, pictures of her with her mother and father and other small things. I think David would be interested in these items as they are from a time before Joann and I started living together. They brought comfort and peace to Joann in her last couple of months, a sense of being connected to her family, though her parents were both dead and her brother and sister turned out to be subhuman in the long run. One of these weekends David will come down from Sacramento, look through these leftovers, and take what he wants. For myself, I have plenty of pictures of Joann and I have her memory book. One of these days, I’ll even go through it and remember. Meanwhile, Joann’s presence around me is as strong as ever and I am grateful for that.