Sooner or later, the instinct to stay alive and sane kicks in and even the greatest hurts seem less so. Lives may be shattered, pain may be permanent, the very world can be torn apart, but the impulse toward self- preservation in an otherwise healthy body propels us though the darkness and back into the light.
On an ordinary Tuesday evening, following a vaguely remembered day at work, Matthew donated his daughter's clothing and bed to the Salvation Army. The stuffed animals were separated into those he would send to Justin and those he would put away in the closet. Her diary and 8th grade yearbook took their place among other family photo albums and scrapbooks. Some of the less sentimental items were simply thrown away, and others were divided up for friends or to be stored away for special occasions.
On Wednesday, Matthew took stock of the remaining furniture, decided to keep a the lamps and desk for his study and donated the rest to a local non-profit organization that was seeking items for a yard sale fundraiser. On Thursday, still feeling a great sense of urgency about the project, he bought new carpet, drapes and paint for her bedroom.
On Friday he stared in horror at the vacant room, wondering if he'd done the right thing, then fell asleep watching a shitty comedy he'd purchased on impulse. He wasn't able to force a laugh at the immature toilet humor.
On Saturday, he lured the guys from the office over with pizza and beer. They laid the carpet imperfectly, but he was able to hide the bulge in the corner with a bookcase purchased to solve the problem. The beige and tan paint, however, looked great with the heavy burgundy drapes over the single window.
On Sunday, he set up the computer and tried to read a book in his new study. Having a perfect "Masterpiece Theater" vision in mind, he got drunk off a bottle of expensive wine and let the platter of cheese go stale.
On Monday, before work, he dropped in on Justin to hand over the boxes of keepsakes that he'd set aside out of fairness. Justin was truly thankful, but had the courtesy to look embarrassed about it. Joey, Justin's new boyfriend, gave them some privacy and treated Matthew with kindness.
"I'm so glad you're finally ready to do this," Justin spoke in hushed tones that reminded them both of the funeral.
"Yeah," Matthew responded out of a need to say something.
Justin hugged Matthew, and the two fathers shared a moment of silent grief. Matthew worried that Joey might get the wrong idea and broke off the hug sooner than he wanted to and said he was going to be late to work. Joey suggested that they all have coffee sometimes soon, and with such undefined and unlikely plans agreed to, Matthew said goodbye to let Justin discover and mourn the content of those boxes.
So Matthew started his car and realized that he wasn't driving to work, he was driving away from the threshold of death.