This past week, on Wednesday- I cleaned our bedroom for the first time since you died. The notion of vacuuming up your skin cells and hair had been too much for me. But it was time. I choked on the visible grey dust as I cleaned.
I cleaned it well and took my time doing each small section while my parents watched Audrey in the other room.
When I got to your desk, I stopped for a few minutes.
I remember the day you left, you straightened up the things on your desk and you took a wet paper towel and wiped it down. You dusted which was a rarity for you. On top of one of your speakers you left a book of Korean poems your father had recently been published in and on the other speaker, a little pile of brown paper napkins, and two bus tickets to the city that you put down there and told me, “Hey, I’ll leave these tickets here so you can use them.” They expired about a week after you died so I never did.
But for months now that desk has been covered with all of the albums and letters and notes I went through in preparation for the funeral.
So, I took everything off and organized it into neat little shopping bags to go through again at a later time. I dusted.
I also moved the matching lamp that was on your night stand to a bookshelf in the center of the room. Because I don’t really walk on your side of the bed or room anymore, I wasn’t turning that light on and the room felt dark. So, I moved it.
The lack of symmetry when I view our bed from the door is striking now.