…clearly did not like me choosing a simple hand tool as my favourite gadget.
Yesterday I had my phone stolen, at least that is the best explanation I can come up with, since I entered the shop with it and didn’t have it when I got home and no one in the shop has it, it wasn’t at the checkout and it wasn’t in the baskets. I guess the uncomfortable feeling I had that someone had walked too close to me was right – they did and my sense that they were threatening was right.
It isn’t like it really matters. It’s not a big thing to lose really, though replacing it is going to cost me money. It’s not like I’ve lost a child, or anything important or meaningful. It’s just that…
That was the phone I had with me while Freddie was alive. In that phone there were text messages I sent which spoke of him in the present tense. I was going to reconstruct his life with those, one day, little snippets of things I sent to people about him in the moments when I had hope, or no hope, or places in between. His birth announcement, his death announcement. Messages to and from Fran and Maddy to keep me grounded in reality while the rest of life shifted and wavered around me.
It hurts that someone who meant me harm has something with his photos on and will wipe them off to sell it.
It isn’t like it should matter. But it just kind of does. Like all those other things, the things I have to put away that just leave a hole that is as bigger reminder as the thing was itself. Just another thing. Another lost thing. Another piece gone.
I would have put that phone in his memory box. But I can’t now because it has gone. And the person who took it won’t even care.