My Husband Was a Keeper — In More Ways Than One
What ‘over my dead body’ may mean in the long-run
No one who knows me would doubt that I adored my late husband, Bob. He meant so much to me. Bob was the kindest person I’ve ever known, truly. He “saw” me, and still loved me — for that, I will be eternally grateful.
When we got married, I and my two youngest children moved into a lovely home with him. He’d already lived there for over 20 years. I didn’t see all the things right away — the piles here and there. It was a blur. I was working, plus parenting teens. And then, I piled my piles on top of Bob’s piles in the attic and garage.
One morning a few years into marital bliss, I mentioned the stuff in the corner of a particular garage bay, wondering whether it was of real use. His response, I swear this is a quote: “I’m not dead yet.”
At work that same day, I talked to a friend about it. He basically said, “Over my dead body.” That’s what I heard. She didn’t know what to say.
So I never touched a thing. Hands off. Until now. He’s gone, and it’s all my responsibility.
After he died last year, I inherited empty product containers — the contents had evaporated somehow from unopened bottles. Weird, huh? Guess that’ll happen to liquids that sit in a garage for…
