New Light

I changed the light bulb in the bathroom exhaust fan with my four-year-old granddaughter, Chloe. We visited the bathroom several times today. First, she had to go pee, so we went to the bathroom together for that. Then a while later, I had to. The door was not fully closed. So, in came Chloe and then the dog.

Her little hands don’t quite reach the faucet so she used the step ladder I had folded against the wall. She likes that little step ladder. She uses it often in the kitchen to help with washing dishes or making scrambled eggs with me. The step ladder was in the bathroom to prompt changing the light bulb that’s been flickering for months. So long that I don’t even bother flipping the switch anymore. I just use the vanity light when I need light. It’s been enough.

Is it one of those things, because you died here in this room that I have such a hard time changing it? Does changing it mean I’ve moved on and I can’t bear that? Or is it because you would have done this task if you were here?

Who am I kidding? It’s my laziness. At least I know for sure, it’s mostly my laziness. A stubbornness to have to do things myself.

It seems odd to me that my husband's dying in the bathroom has never been a taboo, to emotionally avoid. To me, it’s as human as using the toilet. It’s plain as the plainest thing. And for that, I guess I am grateful. His death is not morbid to me. Not untouchable. Not unfathomable. It should be. It was an awful exit. His poor body was so exhausted. And yet, Chloe, his happy-go-lucky granddaughter, and I can pee and chat in the very spot he left.

Chloe watched me as I grabbed the step ladder to change the light and asked me why I’m changing it and what I’ll do with the old bulb. All the questions you get from a little one.

How you would have loved having this conversation with her...and also you would have known how to properly discard this old bulb in my hand.

It has been days since that light bulb was replaced with the new one. I wasn’t amazed when changing it. But I am now.

The inertia behind some household tasks left for me to do is insane. It’s insane making. And such a breath of new life when it’s done. New light.