The Bathroom

As almost everybody knows, Jack died while taking a shower. He was using the shower, as he always did, that was just off the master bedroom. It was "his" bathroom. I almost never used it except if I had to get up in the middle of the night to pee.

Ever since he died, it's been weird using that bathroom. I could still see what had happened there back in March. I went in there even less than I had before. I didn't clean it because it basically wasn't being used hardly at all. And I just didn't want to face it.

I was talking to a friend about this recently, and she suggested that it might be good for me on more than one level to clean it myself. I was thinking of asking someone else or hiring someone to do it. But what she said made sense. So, last week, when I was doing other cleaning around the house, I did it. I cleaned the bathroom. The shower. The toilet. The sink. The mirror. Threw out his used razors. Swept the floor.

You know, I feel better for having done that chore myself. The anticipation was worse than the actual doing of the task. And it feels better in there in more ways than one. I'm comfortable using it finally. My thanks to my friend for the advice. I'm glad I did it.