Once I got the closets done last week, I took a break from cleaning. At this point, I really need Steven's assistance to go any further. (Meaning, I didn't touch any of his stuff last week.) But I'm still tossing stuff here and there when I run across it.
I didn't expect the tears that came when I pulled this from the bottom of my laundry basket:
It's the cover of Calvin's first (and favorite) bed. The bed itself was tossed several months ago after he'd peed on it, and it couldn't be salvaged, but I'd washed the cover, then it got buried in my laundry basket. I think the tears fell because I knew I'd be throwing it away. It wouldn't have hurt me if I'd thrown it away while he was still alive, but now that he's gone, I feel as if I'm trashing a piece of him. I know that's probably all kinds of silly, but emotions are funny things.
I'm thinking I may cut a piece of it to put in his scrapbook.