It took two days, but I finished boxing, alphabetizing, and labeling my CD collection. Previously, they were stored in plastic bins in a totally random order. Now they’re in purpose-built boxes, alphabetical by the artists’ first name. Favorites were pulled out to go in the entertainment center by the new six-CD changer that has glorious sound. The plastic bins house bedding I found when I started cleaning my late wife’s closet, an event that triggered a massive home reorganization.

With the completion of the CD re-organization, however, I believe I can declare the Big Cleanup over. Her clothes are gone, the closet repurposed, and the bedroom reorganized. There’s a new chair in the front room and new mattress and bed in the bedroom. There are different pictures on the walls. There are still bits to be distributed, drawers to clean, and other small things to do, but by and large I’m done. All that’s left is to live in it.

And with that I’m taking a break from this daily writing chore because I need to collect my thoughts, sink back into myself, and see what’s there. Go private if you will. It shouldn’t take long. I’m not a bull elephant wandering the Serengeti waiting around to die. I’m just a guy coming to terms with the loss of his wife. So, I’m going to take a breather. A week feels about right, but you never know. I’ve been doing this for seven years, so there’s no telling how the old brain will react. It could be less; it could be longer. We’ll see.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale