Ok, first…the Silver Fox isn’t dead! That said, he’s not yet out of hospital, this being day 15.

“What the fuck” does not convey the level of conflict I have over that length of stay. Mind you, this is also with no immediate end to the stay on the horizon.

My conflict is between relief that he survived an aneurysm and that his doctor said if he wasn’t in such good shape, he wouldn’t have. That last part sounds like praise for good living, but for a man who didn’t want to live past 75 because of his belief that quality of life decreases beyond that point…surviving without thriving seems less like a blessing than a curse.

Not to say he won’t thrive, but it’s hard to see that potential over the current horizon.

It hurts me to see him imprisoned in this limbo and absolutely cripples me to think that a worse outcome two weeks back might have been his unspoken desire.

Hence, the title. I can’t imagine having to let go of my life with him in it. But I also can’t see how he moves on from here. He’s stronger than I am, so I know he will show me how it’s done. Until then, though, I feel like his limbo is absolutely my own.

And since the titular topics are just too for me, I thought I’d share some nonsensical things that I can’t let go of that at some point during my recent move I held in my hand and thought, “I’m absolutely keeping this”.

Because I need that return to my regularly scheduled insanity.

Those cans are all empty. Well, that’s how I remembered them. Turns out the Izzy can was sealed with what felt like 1/3 of a serving, so I did let that go. The two Coke Zero cans were both sealed up empty.

Why in the Willy Wonka Hell can’t I just recycle them?

These assorted beads and ticket stubs. I may die alone in my loft like a shut in, but I guess these mementos prove I left my home at some point. I also tend to keep the Age Verification wristbands longer than I probably ought. Recently I added a couple of patient ID bands to that mix, but I think I finally divested that weird collection during my move. Or it’s in a drawer and I already forgot where I stashed it.

Real toss up, that one.

This festive wine bottle sweater and cap. This is the only bottle it’s ever adorned, so I guess I also can’t let go of that bottle. The bottle started as a reminder of a tasty wine I needed more of but have never found again.

If there’s a reason to get rid of these plastic dinosaurs, I can’t figure it out. Not that that’s a reason to keep them. My stubbornness is at an impasse, so here they are. If anyone even notices them, they never say anything about them. But I know they are there and it makes me happy.

The weirdest thing about these…keepsakes isn’t the lack of prestige these souvenirs carry. No, it’s that I’m kind of a natural purger. I have enough stuff to never be confused with a minimalist, but not so much to ever be mistaken for a hoarder. And all that stuff actually means something. Maybe it’s useful, maybe it somehow reinforces my style or identity. Heck, to that end, maybe it’s just quirky so I keep it around.

But this stuff is all basically – sometimes literally – garbage. And I can’t get rid of it…so I literally packed it and moved it from one home to another.

Clearly I’m mad as a hatter. Maybe more from pickling myself more than mercury poisoning, but still…