A man just rang our doorbell, to ask if I was interested in selling Cliff's white van. How can I be so stupid and trusting? I told him that Cliff had died and that I'd need to find out what the van's worth as well as clean it out and give it a good clean. Now he knows that I'm home alone. What an idiot.
Now I am more concerned that I am going to have to let go of the van. I know how much this will hurt ... to watch someone else drive it away. But, I do know that Cliff would be annoyed if I just let it rot away, so I'd better do it. Think I'll ask Paul or Vern to help me do it so that I don't sob all the way through it.
I know it's silly, that it's only a thing, not a person. It's not him. But even so, other widows and widowers will understand exactly what this means to me.
I just smiled at a memory of Cliff in his van. I was stuck in bad traffic and Cliff knew that I hardly had any petrol left in my car. It wasn't long after I'd passed my driving test. He was so lovely ... every night he'd be standing in the window with his mobile in one hand and his van keys in the other just in case I had an accident on the way home ... anyway, he found out about the traffic jam and knew I'd run out of petrol ... so there I was sitting in my car looking out the window, when I saw a white van looking like Cliff's coming towards me, with a man who looked remarkably like Cliff coming towards me ... it WAS Cliff! "Follow me," he said with a big grin on his face. Follow him I did, all through the country lanes back home (via a petrol station) safely.
I'll do it but I'm going to need help. At least I know I can ask for help.