go is not forgetting, I could practically hear her saying.
And I knew that Natalie, my angel, was watching over me.
It didn’t take long to get her side of the sink cleaned up, and as I bent down to zip up the duffel bag, that same voice whispered in my head, Keep on going.
And so I did.
The clock said three in the morning, but I headed to the basement to go through all her belongings. It would have been easier to just walk the bins straight to my car and take them to the donation center, but I opened each bin and allowed myself to reminisce, grieve as I folded the clothes and placed them back in the bin. I kept certain items, ones I knew that Sarah and Mary would want when they were older—her favorite sweater; the shawl she’d always worn while she was reading; the shirt that said, Today’s not the day to get on my nerves; the shirt I’d bought her that read, Best Mother Ever because she had been. The girls were the luckiest to have had Natalie Mary Brisken as their mother.
I kept going, stopping only to hold certain pieces that reminded me of an occasion—our date at the theater, Sarah’s Christmas recital, Christmas with my parents, where the theme was ugly sweaters.
I brought the sweater to my nose and inhaled deeply, seeing if there was any trace of her left on the clothing, a light scent of her perfume, anything … but it was gone. The only traces of her left were the items themselves that had once belonged to her.
Who knew what time it was? I was head deep into the bins when I peered up to see Becky by the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey.” She waved a hand, her eyes still drowsy from sleep. She was fully changed into a T-shirt and running shorts. I figured she’d gone back to her room to change. “I was looking for you.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
She yawned. “It’s around ten.”
“Oh.”
Well, shit. I hadn’t realized I’d been going for so long. I was three quarters of the way done and kind of on a roll.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
I sat on my heels. “Not really.” I scratched at my temple. “You had me thinking a lot about things, Nat, us.”
“You didn’t have to do this because of me,” she said softly, her eyebrows pulling together, her gorgeous green eyes soft and gentle. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her ankles.
“I didn’t. I did it for me. I did it for Nat.”
Because there was that little voice of hers that had kept telling me to move on. I’d tried to mute it for too long. It was time. Time for me to take a path without her ghost walking alongside me and time for Natalie to have peace, knowing I was happy again and no longer living in the misery of losing her.
I placed the Disney T-shirt that I had within my hands in the box and stood. “Let’s get breakfast.”
“Are you done?”
I looked at the boxes still left to go. “Almost but not quite.”
A sweet smile popped onto her face. “Well, let me help you, then.”
Before I could protest, she got down on her knees and rummaged through the box closest to her.
“Becky … you don’t have to do this.”
Immense guilt hit me in the chest because she didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to help me go through my deceased wife’s belongings. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable with the situation.
She paused, her hands stopping at the edge of the box. “Unless you don’t want me to. If this makes you uncomfortable—”
“No,” I protested, frowning as I assessed her. “I’m just surprised that you’re not.”
Her tone softened, and she tilted her head. “I just want to help you, Charles.”
With Becky, I was too much in my head. I never used to be that guy. I never assumed things. Here I was, assuming she wouldn’t feel comfortable, putting away all my dead wife’s belongings, that it would be too much for her.
“Thank you.” I plopped down next to her and continued to place things that I would donate in a big garbage bag.
“This shirt though.” She lifted it up, so I could read the front. I’m going to do nothing all day. “You know Mary will wear this.”
I shook my head and laughed. Wasn’t it the truth though? Mary had won this family over with her cuteness, and I wondered if she’d keep