Just books

Robert was working on his dissertation and had accumulated a ton of books. He always loved books and rarely met one he didn't want to take home, or order online. His psychology library grew and grew and grew.

He put up shelves in his room/office and was quickly surrounded by all his books. It got to be overwhelming while he was battling cancer. So he began to organize and box them up. Then he put them in a storage unit. And that is where they've been sitting.

Robert told me to donate them to Jungian Institute as his dissertation was on dreams. That there was no rush to do this. However I decided to empty the storage unit now, not willing to continue to pay the monthly fee. And I started the process (look there is that word again) of filling up my car (my 4-door car, not my car that was his car) with said boxes of books. 14 boxes of books for Institute.

Books went from house to storage unit (Robert did this). From storage unit to garage (I did this) and today from garage to Institute (me again).

Went like clockwork. Director of Institute helped me move books from my car into her office. They will be added to their library. I even designed a bookplate in Robert's name.

All this time I've thought of these books as well...books. Boxes of books to be moved. I handled the boxes numerous times. And while I noted Rob's organization by topic and notation on the boxes, they were just books.

Just books. I mean I had no use for them. I would never read them. There was no room in the house. They were just books.

And then the Director thanked me for donating Robert's Library. Thanked me for our generosity. And they became Robert's books. And I was leaving them there. And the grief welled up. And I'm sobbing once again.