More Tax Fun and What Do I Keep

First the IRS, now the state has a question about last year's tax return.

"And who are you," the man asks. "Oh, so you’re not family?" That’s one I have yet to get used to hearing. I’m not dealing with people who are trying to be unkind. I have spoken with two people with the IRS who were very helpful. But I have no status, according to their rules. (The next person who says we should settle for anything less than marriage is going to probably get bitch slapped by me. And I’m only half kidding.)

So, I had to send a letter yesterday, make a call today, they need more papers, and yes, I can send it by fax. Now wait a week or so for the fax to get into their system and then probably have several more phone calls. And that’s just the state tax return. (Do you know how much I hate the fact that I whine like this all the time?)

I have procrastinated on the federal life insurance and final benefits situation for a few weeks and some paperwork came in today. I am preparing to do battle on an issue I’m almost certain to lose. I know that at some point I will just have to give in and recognize that fighting for rights I do not legally have is fruitless and a fast trip to an ulcer. Survival is my nature, but some of this is just more painful than it should be and I am half Irish and yes, we really all all stubborn.

I was good and tired all day Saturday and when I get tired I get emotional so much more easily. And then, while going through the last personal items in the other condo we own, I found the card. It was the first birthday card I gave him after we were together. My inscription was long and romantic and so, of course, I just went to pieces. One of my sisters called, and let me vent for a good bit, which was so helpful. This weekend I heard from three of the four siblings; they are still keeping a close watch on me—-thank goodness.

There are dozens of personal items like that card I have found and I go through this huge decision-making process with each one. How many do I keep? How many do I throw away? Am I being disloyal if I toss them? How much do I even have room for (the storage bin is bursting, the closets nearly all full). What do I do with what I keep, any way? And when you’re sleep deprived your brain just isn’t worth a damn, making it that much harder.

It's the kind of day when I think I should be ready to just scream, but I don't. I'm unsure if that's a good or bad sign. I think I'm still just numb and worn down. It has been four months, technically, but so much longer since he was his real self--before the cancer, the chemo. So, after more than two years, should I be used to this by now?