I wrote about my neighbor dying a few days ago—Mr. Jackson from across the hall. He was a nice old guy.
Last weekend, his brother and his wife went inside this apartment and took out the things they wanted of his. I introduced myself to them and told them how sorry I was for their loss. Just like Mr. Jackson, they were nice to me.
Yesterday morning, some maintenance people from the building went into Mr. Jackson’s apartment and starting cleaning it out. They hauled up a dumpster to my floor and put it in the hall. Watching through the peephole on my apartment door, I watched those maintenance guys laugh and cut up while throwing out Mr. Jackson’s stuff.
I thought to myself this is what it all gets down to. You live, then you die and your stuff that nobody wants gets put in a dumpster by people you don’t even know.
That’s depressing. I’m going to try and not think about this ever again.
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