Shreddies

I'm a fan of cereal.

Always have been.  In fact, I would eat it three meals a day if I had to.

I'm also picky about my cereal.

It can't be overly sweet - the less sugar, the better.  It has to be in a certain type of bowl (deep and narrow as opposed to wide and shallow).  It has to be eaten with a specific spoon.  It can only have a certain amount of milk.

I know.  I have some issues.  Don't judge.

When I first started dating Sean, he had this subscription box that came filled with his favorite Canadian snacks.  I called the Canadian Care Package.  One day while I was at his place, I was searching for something to eat and came across a collection (at least 4 boxes) of cereal in a yellow box.  Shreddies.

So I asked what Shreddies were and would I like them.  He told me they were boring, which in Sean language meant without sugar, so I tried them.  They were like Bran Chex, but bigger.  And I loved them.

So I ate my way through all the boxes, and the 2 others that arrived before he cancelled the subscription.  When I realized I was down to the last box I started to panic.  What if I couldn't get that yellow box of crunchy goodness anymore?  

Our first Christmas as an engaged couple, in my stocking, was a box of Shreddies.

He did that a lot.  If there was a food I liked, he would find a way to make sure I had it on hand.  Haagen-Dazs Vanilla Swiss Almond ice cream. Cherry Pull and Peel Twizzlers. After Eight chocolate mints (so elegant!) The dried mango from Trader Joe's (soft and juicy - not the regular one).  The giant cookies from Mattheessen's in Key West.  Tab.

Tab was a big one.  I'm not a huge soda drinker, but I love Tab.  And then they took it off the market (bastards).  So Sean hit up every grocery store to stock up on it and even found it on eBay (and paid way too much, but didn't bat an eye about doing that).

Sean made sure that I always had Shreddies in the cabinet (or, cupboard, as he called it).  I never seemed to run out.  I don't know if he periodically checked the box, or had it on autoship, but I never saw it arrive, and I never ran out.  He was like the Shreddies Fairy.

Recently I have been doing some cleaning.  And by "cleaning" I mean, going through Sean's clothes, his boxes in the basement, the cabinets in the kitchen.  Going through and sorting out.  Getting rid of things I don't need, things I won't use, and things I know should have been tossed three moves ago but someone (ahem) swore that he would wear/use/watch/needed to keep.  

It hasn't been easy.

Since I'm not 100% sure where I'll be living when my lease ends in August (part of me wants to stay, part of me wants to go), I'm not sure what kind of space I'll have.  What I do know is that this is a huge undertaking and an incredibly emotional one.

Some things I am able to toss without any issue at all (say goodbye 4 jars of mayo and many jars of mustard and relish!!)

Somethings I am dreading.

We were in Philly about a month before Sean died.  He had a broken foot, but insisted on going to the Pantera concert in Camden.  We stayed in Philly so I could drop him off and pick him up from the show to avoid him driving on a broken foot.  When we came home his suitcase was shoved behind our bedroom door.

It's still there.

Every morning I see it when I go into the closet to get my clothes for the day.

Every night I see it when I lower the thermostat to 62 (yes.  62.  I'm of a certain age and night sweats are a THING.  A nasty, evil, thing.)

And I'm avoiding opening it.  I know when I do, the last scent of him will be released.  The clothes he wore during our last 3 day getaway are in there.  His tooth brush.  Sean died on a Monday.  I had done laundry a week before and since he was home with a broken foot, he hadn't really worn much aside from his two favorite robes.  The white one which he was wearing when they took him to the emergency room that morning, and the blue grey Ugg robe, which is now mine and is worn The Dude style when I am in the house.  The one tshirt that was in the hamper I took out and use as a blanket for Lexi at night.  I spray it with his cologne every week so she gets to smell him when she goes to sleep.  And smelling that helps me fall asleep, too.  The other night I slept through the night.  One of the few times that's happened in the last 173 days.   

Last week as I was reorganizing and cleaning the pantry, I pulled out the box of Shreddies that was moved behind a few other things.  It's half empty.  And I started to cry because it's half empty.  And if I have a few more bowls, the last box of Shreddies he bought me will be gone.  It's not like I can't buy another box.  Of course I can.  But it's the last box from him.  So I poured some into a container and put it away.  Separate from the rest of the cereal in the box.

You never think about the last things until you are dealing with the last things.

The last shirt he wore.  The last glass he drank from. The last concert.  The last vacation.  The last kitchen dance.  The last show you watch together.  The last song you hear together.  The last time you laugh with each other. The last dinner you eat together.  The last text you send.  The last "I love you".  The last hug.

The last kiss.

The last bowl of Shreddies.

Somewhere in the basement, in one of Sean's many boxes, I believe is one can of Tab.  My last can.  And I'll find it.  Someday.  And when I do, I will crack it open, pour that last bowl of Shreddies, and think of My Favorite. 

A delicious, but bittersweet, last.