Laying claim

Gradually, my approach to the house, the garden, and possessions has been changing. After Sandy died, I remained very conscious of which things were hers, what her preferences were, and how to preserve her intent. Slowly, I've laid claim to more of it, pulling plants I don't care for or giving away things I'll never use. But recently, that process has accelerated.

This weekend, I wanted to take advantage of a book that was available free on the kindle. It would only be free for a couple of days, so I knew I needed to download it soon. But Sandy's kindle was still connected to her Amazon account, and I'd never felt ready to transfer it to mine. I didn't even know how. Motivated, I figured that out, and then asked Amazon to close her account. (First, I printed her wishlist to PDF, read the reviews she'd written, and checked to make sure there wasn't anything else I'd want access to.)

Oddly, I don't have any photos of Sandy with her kindle, but
here's a random exercise shot from 2004.

Now her kindle has been renamed Brie's Kindle, and it's attached to my account, and in addition to all the content that was already on it (and that I've dipped into), it has the free book I downloaded this weekend. That was a big step. Friends bought the kindle for Sandy shortly after her metastatic cancer diagnosis, and soon she carried it everywhere, primarily reading fan fiction on it. It was lightweight, perfect for reading in bed or lying on the sofa. She could carry it with one hand easily, so she was able to read as she walked, if she used just one walking stick. She'd had it for only a year when she died, but it was strongly identified with her in my mind.

A shift happened when I registered it in my name. I was pleased that the change didn't distress me, but I hadn't expected to be delighted. I felt that little thrill of excitement that comes with getting a new toy, wanting to explore it, poking around to find out what else I could get free. I claimed it. I moved in. I didn't delete any of Sandy's stuff, and I won't for a while, but it's clear to me now that my enjoying her kindle won't in any way diminish the experience she had with it. Instead it felt like a gift she'd given me.

Ultimately, I think I'm becoming more secure in the knowledge that changing the space around me won't erase Sandy. She certainly isn't fading from my memory or my presence, and it's no betrayal to her to make the most of every day I have left among the living.