After Shirlee died all I wanted to do is sleep. Still do.
The week following her death Shirlee's grandchildren came and went through her belongings to choose the items they wanted. Dale was able to send and receive text messages with each of them to set up times for them to come to our house and then he spent time with them searching through boxes and furniture. They each came alone a couple of times and then they all came at the same time on President's Day.
The grandchildren are: Dale's sister's two kids, Maxwell, the oldest, 33, and his sister, Angela, 29. Shirlee went with us to Angela's wedding on January 13th, the weekend before she had the stroke that sent her to the hospital. Then there's Dale's daughter Rhiannon, who is 32 and who has been here several times helping Dale organize Shirlee's pictures, kitchen stuff and other treasures. Dale's son, Donovan, 28, didn't come as he lives in Oregon and is working as a chef in a restaurant and couldn't get the time off.
Shirlee had dozens of pillowcases spread out everywhere; one or two in every drawer and box. She also loved socks. They found dozens of pairs of white socks, too.
Then last week Sandy, Dale and I took bags of Shirlee's clothes to Goodwill. We still have more to do, but we are starting to see the bottom of the closet.
Dale has been less emotionally shaken than either Sandy or me. In my case I think it's because she was only nine years older than me. In Sandy's case she thinks it's because when she dies she wants to go quickly, not like Shirlee did. She wants to have a heart attack and go instantly like her father did.
We all miss Shirlee.