Watching movers pack away his things and throw them into the truck is so impersonal. Tossing the boxes into a truck with no thought as to what they are handling. I wish I had the strength to be the one who packed it all away, but I couldn’t. It was hard enough to pack up my things. I moved my stuff out of the home two weeks ago, but the majority of everything in that home was his.
He was my other half. My soul mate. One morning, we were completely in love and talking about starting a family, and then by nightfall, I had found my boyfriend barely alive in the storage room of the bar I owned. I rode with him as he was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, praying he would pull through even though the look on the paramedics’ fac22222222222222222223es told me otherwise. After what seemed like forever in the waiting room, doctors gave me the news he didn’t make it. The police questioned me extensively, and later that night, I came home to his empty house. From that day on, I have been on autopilot.