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On Thursday, our apartment in San Francisco will finally be foreclosed and auctioned off. I am relieved in the same way I was relieved when Renata finally died. I am hoping as a result I will feel the same lift I experienced when the nightmare of Renata's coma ended. I think I just need peace. Wondering when and how. My beautiful apartment in San Francisco is another one of those subjects I must train myself to not indulge in thinking about. Like Renata, it is a downward spiral of depression. When I imagine Barbara Walters asking about the pivotal moment in my life when Renata had her accident, I stop myself. My home in San Francisco will be cataloged with her. It is to be placed in the dustiest, dingiest, and darkest corner of my brain. I just want it all to stop hurting. It hurts so bad. I can't breathe when I think about it. It's about to be over. It is almost all over.
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