Back To Shred

I haven't really been angry about all this since it began. I am not an angry person, in general. When Lou was diagnosed, I was petrified, but not angry. And, sad, certainly. Very sad. Then I sprung into action. And my attitude was that we had to play the hand we were dealt, and that we would play it as best we could. And, I think we did. I know we did. You get too wrapped up in getting through it to really be angry. Too wrapped up in trying to take care of your family, your household, and of course, your beloved. Where does anger get you, really? But, today, I got angry. Oh yeah, I was very angry the day I found those pills Lou was never able to take. So, I guess cleaning out is what gets me angry. Because today was designated cleaning day. Another new years resolution. I only made TWO. I am supposed to take one day a week to go through Lou's things, and everything else I ignored for two entire years. Lou left behind wayyyyyyy tooooooo many boxes of files, papers, receipts, records, photos, travel brochures, notes, and more. He was a pack rat! It will take me a year to get through it all. Each piece of paper needs to be reviewed. Identity theft and all that. The shredder is getting a real work out. So today, it all made me angry. Angry that I have to spend so darn much time at this. Angry that spending time on it makes me sad. Angry at the gazillions of details he took care of that created alot of stress for him, that I wish he had not had. Angry at how very hard he worked. Angry at the photos of all the great times we had. Angry that he had to suffer so. Angry to be shredding his life up. But I'm not angry at Lou. It's hard to get angry at someone who took copious notes of things to do on a trip, then put them in a daily itinerary for everyone. It's hard to get mad at someone who then made notes of every place we went, to remember for the NEXT trip, or to give to someone else. It's hard to get angry at the person who ran the condo board and personally answered all the notes, phone calls, and visits he got from his 700 constituents, and of course, kept copies of it all. It's hard to get angry at the man who saved all the little notes, pictures, and cards his sons gave him. Could never get angry at the son who wrote a ten page letter to the President of United Airlines when his dear elderly mother was mishandled on a cross country trip. Can't get angry at the man who made loans to friends in need. Can't get angry at the man who kept his golf scorecards. Get angry at the man who kept the Playbill from the first time we saw CATS in London in 1981? I think not. I'm just angry at everything ELSE.