Occupying my condo months before they transitioned, I tried to keep memorable portions of their being and threw away the remnants. Objects don’t have value while memories linger. Tops, moisturizer, and opera records that they owned don’t revitalize their image. I have no sense of smell and can’t breathe life back to articles they possessed. Throwing out the pain they incurred is a blessing. Incorporating their ache free past helps reimagine their aura. Their essence and spirit swallow my memories. Discarding the props that gripped them doesn’t diminish their value. The perception of their ghost hovers over the rooms they occupied. Throwing away tears engulfs depression. I awaken to departed substances. Articles fly away. Don’t fling off recollections. Memories grind the skull.