Two actually.
One for grocery store items and household items we needed to buy.
The other for tasks/chores that needed to be done.
And yes, most of the time it was me writing on these boards.
I like to keep lists.
Roger used to make fun of all my lists.
He did contribute though.
He put stuff on both boards.
One of the items on the board is to paint the bonus room door we had installed.
The door is primed.
But it needs a coat of white satin paint.
I wrote it on the list.
Roger argued it was my task since he painted the first coat.
I argued it was his since he started the task.
And the word "argue" here means teased.
We teased each other a lot. And the dry erase boards were a huge source of teasing and silliness.
After I wrote it on the list, a few days later I noticed Roger had put something else next to it.
He wrote my name in parenthesis.
It is still there.
And the door still is not painted.
I would also put funny tasks on the list.
Like "Have sex with Star."
"Fall in love with Star."
"Hug Star"
The list goes on.
It was fun.
It was interesting to see how the list would change from day to day.
And how things got marked off.
I also found a list of grocery items in the inbox in the office.
It is written on an excel sheet Roger made. He loved excel.
He had printed out the measurements of all the windows in the house.
Roger must have copied the grocery list on the fridge onto these sheet.
I have notebooks from when he took notes at work.
He was so cute with how organized he was.
Everyday he wrote.
The meetings he went to.
The things he did or needed to do.
Lots of things I will probably never understand.
But I still love looking at them.
Touching them.
I treasure these things.
Even though it is far from neat.
Some I can barely read, but I love it.
I can't imagine what I will even do with them.
Seeing his handwriting reminds me he was real.
He was here.
He did regular normal things.
He was human (despite his resistance to be considered a normal average human being).
He was silly.
He was organized.
He was responsible.
Oh man, I really loved him.
And I miss doing these silly normal daily things with him.
I miss my husband.
My partner.
Sigh...
1 comment:
My husband kept all his sent email archived onto zip drives. I was going through the email trying to find some of the email he sent to me and I ended up reading all his work email, too. Even though I didnt know what they were talking about (or cared), I could "hear" his "voice" in them. He was who he was no matter what he was writing about. His personality just flows from the words, even though they are typed. When I read that email, it's painful how much I miss him even though it's been eight years since he died. I think, sometimes, at this point in my grieving process, I have to read this stuff to remember he was real... AT this point, he often feels like the hero in some wonderful dream I had once... :(
I treasure the few video tapes we made, too. Even if he's not onscreen, I can hear him. It leaves a lump in my throat. It seems so unfair that someone I knew so vividly once ceases to exist to the world. How can everthing that he was just be gone??
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