Diary of a Widower

Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons

Leaving her diary untouched

WEDNESDAY, May 5 – Damn it all, Tim, concentrate!  Not on sorting, packing and getting rid of things. Think about unpacking them and hanging them up. Take the past with you, but try to see it as the future. Damn it, I’m being dragged into deep shit and I mustn’t give in. The move is getting to me. Why do I have to do stuff like this on my own?  Why am I too proud to ask for help?  I’m an asshole.

I think back to Queen’s Day last year. It was shortly afterwards that Jennifer and I had had a number of discussions about our marriage. We talked about being together, living together, doing things alone, living one’s own life, growing apart, the risks involved in separate lives lived under the same roof.

Maybe now was the time to find out what was behind that ominous expression on her face, by reading her diaries covering that period. I decide not to. For now, I deposit that part of our past in a large moving box.

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