This Saturday I am having a garage sale to sell John's tools and other items from the garage. Going through them the past two weeks and tagging them, deciding what to keep, what to sell, has been brutal. Every time I put a sticker on something, my heart broke. How can I put a price on a tool that he held, a saw that he used to make things for us, a wrench that he used to fix our home? It feels almost sacrilegious. In my heart, I know if he were here he would tell me to sell everything and do something for myself with the money but it's more than the money.These tools are the heart and soul of what he did for us, how he cared for us, how he loved us.
I just don't know how I am going to get through the day watching his things walk away forever. I've organized the sale, I've put the notice in the paper, I've told people - and I want to call it all off. I want to scream it was a mistake. They can't have his things. Not ever. I'm not ready.
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