I'm not very good company the day we clean out Daddy's shed. Mostly junk. Really that's all it was. Just junk. It was rusted and broken and shredded and wasted from neglected time but I can't laugh and make small talk while I throw out what was his.
We move through the dust and webs and sort into piles and the scene plays out before me like a movie when someone dies and their stuff is here but they are not.
But I don't think I was really there. I was in a hospital room saying good-bye. I was at the doctor's office that very morning listening to her tell me my mama really needs to be hospitalized. I was in the back yard thirty-five years ago watching the pecan tree be planted or a light filled sunny day walking in his steps or catching crickets behind his mower.
I was anywhere but there.
And I just couldn't make small talk that day or really talk at all. Tears sitting on the verge.
I've been difficult to get along with lately.
I have people.
And I want them to love me through this difficult time and forgive me and cry with me and make me laugh and just stick by me.
Really - just stick by me.