I can't wait until this weekend is over.

Less than two weeks until I move. I've reserved the moving truck and have only a few fixes on the house left to do. Tomorrow's adventure? The GARAGE.
When people hear this, they automatically assume that it's piled high with junk and forgotten belongings. This is only a half truth.

The garage was my father's domain. It was his workshop. He ran a business that supported us for so many years from that garage. If he wasn't in front of the TV with his giant bowl of popcorn, he was out there. Even when temperatures topped 110 in the middle of august, he was out there with some swamp cooler he had rigged up, or most recently, the air duct that he installed onto the main a/c unit that provided air conditioning directly on him.
That's where he reported to work everyday. He had the discipline that only a military man could have. Every tool was inventoried. He was amazingly organized. He could fix ANYTHING. (which is also why I never made it to the doctor's office for injuries.)

It's hard to explain the clinginess that we go through when people die. Yes, death is natural, blah blah blah... but it's so unnatural in a sense that one day they're here, the next day they aren't. I know that I immediately felt the need to cling to anything that reminded me of him. I'd stand in his closet and smell his clothes and cry. Does that make me weird? No. It's one of those things that people do that no one likes to talk about because it could potentially sound weird to non-mourners.
Those days are long gone now; I donated his clothes, his suits, his shoes... his bed is gone and so is all his bedroom furniture. I've saved the important things. I'm glad that I did that years ago, and I'm glad that I did it alone.

But that garage. There's a lot of baggage there. I am going to find all sorts of things that I don't need, but that may have value. Then what? Tools are great things to have, but I don't need ALL of them. But their replacement value is high. Is my father laughing at me for schlepping these things all the way to Davis? Or is he pissed that I just threw away some really awesome tool?
Or.. wait a minute, it doesn't matter either way because he is dead and if he really cared about his things he wouldn't have died. ::insert bratty face::

All joking aside, I have really put this task off as long as I possibly could. I'm looking forward to finding things that I haven't seen since my childhood, as well as being reminded of things that I've pushed out of my brain for so long. It's going to suck, it's going to be sad, it's going to be funny and it's going to be tough.

It's the last physical evidence that he was here.
... and I have to take it all apart.