I bit my lip, so hard it drew blood.
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
“Sara?”
I looked toward the door. My genie stood there, watching me with a guarded expression. “Do you know what this is?”
He shook his head.
I held up the card. “The final two lines from his favorite poem.”
Grant came closer and read over my shoulder. “By Lord Byron. How do you feel about this gift?”
“Humbled. I can’t believe...” I paused.
“Will you finish your thought?”
My gaze sought Grant’s. Did he know that I’d fallen asleep on Sean’s last night? I didn’t want to explain. Didn’t want to risk Grant’s reaction. He’d become my tether to goodness. I just shook my head and looked away.
“You did not fail him.”
With a shrug, I stood, carried the box to my dresser, and shut it inside. Spinning around, I gave him a wide, fake smile. “What’s next?”
“We’ve completed the packing of Sean’s room. Perhaps you would like to make a final pass.”
I followed him. The bedroom had four bare walls. Bare carpet. An empty dresser, bookcase, and desk. Nothing left in the closet but hangers.
I spot-checked the Throwaway pile and nodded. With methodical movements, I scooped up the junk and stuffed it into a garbage bag. Grant had the Keep cartons closed, their contents neatly marked in his elegant script.
Looking around one last time, I squeezed my clenched hands against my belly. Our job was done. My brother’s life had been sorted through and then thrown away, given away, or sent to storage.
I should be glad this project was behind me, right? Instead, panic churned inside me, threatening to explode through my skin. I slapped a hand over my mouth, ran to the bathroom, and dropped to my knees by the toilet. Just in time.
Grant knelt beside me. With one hand, he caught my hair and drew it away from my face. He placed the other on my back, a gentle, comforting presence.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. How many times would I have to say that today?
“There is no need to apologize.”
I rested my forehead against the porcelain rim and tried to calm my breathing.
It wasn’t working. “I’ve erased Sean.”
“Your feeling is understandable but not logical. His legacy was trapped in that room, and you have liberated it.”
Was Grant correct? I hoped so. He was right about everything. It would be really nice if I could believe it in this instance.
Sean’s bedroom, computer, and all of his belongings had hung over my head like a dark cloud. Taking care of them had kept me focused. It allowed me to push aside the confusion over my job, my mindless reading and thinking, and my careful lack of planning. None of them had been important when compared to what I had to do for my brother.
Dear Lord, I wanted so much for this to set me free from the misery.
And worried just as hard that it would succeed.
Status Report #16
Sunday’s Wish: Resolution of desk contents
