When I Lost My Husband, I Didn’t Mention The Retirement Benefits He Left Me – Or The Second Home In Spain. A Week Later, My Son Sent Me A Message With Clear Instructions: “Start Packing, The House Has Been Sold.”

Transition as if grief were a business merger.

As if the dismantling of 30 years of marriage could be reduced to paperwork and profit margins. “And where exactly am I supposed to live during this transition?”

“Well, that’s what we wanted to discuss. Darlene’s got that finished basement and with away at college most of the year, there’s plenty of space.

You’d have your own entrance, your own bathroom. It could work out perfectly.”

Darlene’s basement. The same basement that flooded every spring where she stored Christmas decorations and exercise equipment she never used.

the same basement where I’d been relegated during last year’s Thanksgiving dinner while the real adults ate upstairs. “How generous of Darlene to offer.”

“She’s excited about it, actually. Thinks it could be good for both of you.

You could help with Kathleen when she’s home from school. Maybe do some cooking. You know how Darlene struggles with meal planning.”

Of course, Darlene struggled with meal planning the same way she struggled with laundry, cleaning, and remembering to call her mother.

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