![]() The past six days felt like someone else’s life. He hated opening gifts, and she spared him from the discomfort. In the rare instances she made him lunch, there unfailingly would be a note in the bag. Jody would leave him notes, mainly yellow Post-it notes, on the bathroom mirror or in his wallet. ![]() Who left this for me? With all the pain and all the forced smiles, he was tired of surprises and unforeseen moments. It was a simple cardboard box, but he can’t remember having seen it there before. He had been on autopilot, meticulously carrying out each deed as if their fulfillment would somehow bring her back.and now he was done. Since Jody passed, Joe was consumed by completing each step that she outlined in her last wishes. Joe was usually very observant he was struck that he had not noticed the box previously. In their bedroom, a box on his dresser caught his eye. The hollow echo from each of Joe’s footsteps down the hallway rattled in his head, almost as loud as the din of the new reality he wished wasn’t true. A tray of sliced lunch meat wraps sat on the kitchen counter. The visitors left the awkward conversations ended. ![]()
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