Journaling:
Pandora in my headphones.
A glass of wine at hand.
Strolling through memory lane is no fun.
I had to see a psychologist for six months to be able to sell Uncle John's property. As the executrix of his will it was up to me to take care of his wishes.
OK. Two glasses of wine.
I made a plan to say goodbye. I decided to have Hal take me out to the property one last time and I would build a fire and burn the contents of Uncle John's wallet. There wasn't enough money in the kitty to pay for too many more years of property tax. The property wasn't being used and vandals had found a way around the locked gate to destroy what was left out there. It was time.
Sometimes you need a very concrete way of saying goodbye. For me the fire was perfect. I looked at each item in the wallet as I put it in the fire. Until I got to his library card. For some reason I didn't want to burn that one. I burned the wallet and put his library card in my pocket.
After the ritual of burning the contents of Uncle John's wallet I was able to hire a realtor and put the property on the market. Less than a year later the property sold, funds were distributed and all aspects of the will were satisfied.
Now, a couple of years later the wound is smaller but still hurts like hell.
I miss the property.
I miss him.
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