We just sold Brian's oven. It was the last thing we had on the list to sell. 150.00 bucks is what we got for it. Brian left us with a lot of stuff. Non of it was worth very much. Most of it couldn't be sold because it was either damaged or not worth the effort for the return. We gave much of it to charity and took the write off.
We keep getting notices from bill collectors, and all his magazine subscriptions (about a dozen in all) in the mail. Calls from Realtors trying to "short sale" Brian's house. I don't know what to make of the chaos that was Brian's life. I just know that I want it all to be over. It hurts me to say that but it's true. The more it drags on the more I have to think about it. I can't hold onto his stuff forever. His memory should be what I hold.
Loading that stove into the guys truck today was relieving, but at the same time it was painful. That guy has no idea who Brian was or what he meant to me. He only knows he got a hell of a deal on a stove. He'll take it home, plug it in and probably make some meals on it never knowing how I felt putting that stove into his truck.
The day before Brian was pronounced dead we went to his house just Marie and I. I remember seeing the pasta meal he had made the night before still sitting on the stove. There was a half eaten pizza in that general vicinity as well. I was still in shock and very tired, but needed to clean his house out. Something that should have been done about 3 years ago.
After Kelly died he just kept drinking and going deeper into depression. He wouldn't throw anything out or get rid of any of her stuff. There was still dirty laundry in the hamper from Kelly when we emptied it. His poor cats had been so neglected that they were matted with their own shit. The house smelled like Glade air fresheners. That's the only reason we couldn't smell the cat pee.
We didn't know where to start. Since Brian had been alone in that house I had seen the size of his living space decrease little by little. First he used the entire house. He rarely went upstairs, (their old shared bedroom) but he still used it. He slept in the guest bedroom on the main level, and still had his entertainment stuff in the basement. Later he moved everything upstairs to the main level and lived there. He just pushed everything together and lived in a small space in the kitchen and living room with access to the bath room and his bedroom. He was cramped but I guess it was good enough for him.
The day he killed himself must have been one hell of a bender. The kitchen was a mess with old food everywhere. The house was in shambles and it appeared he had moved from sleeping in the spare bedroom to sleeping (or should I say passing out) on the couch. I found empty whiskey bottles in the house and there were beer bottles everywhere. The room that was the office for Kelly was full of papers from 3 years ago and beyond. There were boxes and papers strewn about the floor. It was as Kelly had left it otherwise. He just kept throwing papers in that room and forgetting about them.
