An Obituary for [Redacted]

On September 20, 2019, [redacted] departed from my world.

Although [redacted] only held a place in my life for about two months, I will miss [redacted] a considerable amount, for we shared numerous memories while also learning from each other.

With a heavy heart, I will reminisce about our adventures for years to come.

I will never forget the four times we took out the trash. We wheeled it down the hallway, and I tripped a lot. Who knew that chores could elicit such joy? On our way to the dumpster, I recalled ballet steps while you struck envy in the hearts of all. And how could I ever forget the wheels popping off as we struggled to dump everyone’s overflowing garbage?

I will never forget your awesome sweeping. Also, the microwave will miss you as well.

I will never forget our horrific struggles either, actually. How could I? How could I forget the green knob that randomly decided to pop off? How could I forget how my drawer hit the ground, quitting life one day? How could I forget the terrible, terrible drain that choked on everyone’s accumulated sadness?

I will never forget the smell of constant coffee in the morning and the smell of hot pockets in the evening. My heart has a special place for popped popcorn and devoured Reese’s chocolates, also.

And I will never forget how you deeply influenced my life. When I ran out of sugar, you lent me yours. When I overslept for five minutes, you woke me up. When I thought the bathroom door was locked, you told me that I had locked it. When I needed a rag to clean the shower, you provided one.

I will also never forget how you dealt with me. Thank you for tolerating that cursed lamp and for bearing with each Reese’s opened past ten. Thank you for cleaning the bathroom sometimes. Thank you for dividing our storage space in half when we gained neighbors. Thank you for listening to me rant about Michael Crichton and The Book Thief (each for a literal hour). Thank you for sharing some of my bizarre music tastes and helping me invent conspiracy theories circulating a person’s eyebrows. And thank you for helping me dump the trash, for helping me figure out that short story, for helping me realize that I needed coffee to—wait for it—suffice.

I am so appreciative of you, [redacted]. And I will never forget the fun of wearing those heels and the humor of, “where were you?” Although you never were able to see me as a giant Home Depot, you came to two coffee houses (the dedication, wow; I am not being sarcastic). I will also like to add that you did, however, see me homeless, excluding the “sophisticated” glasses, of course.

All in all, [redacted], I will miss your presence greatly. You deeply impacted my life, and I will never forget you. I will miss your awesome hair and outfits as well as your personality, and I will miss your awesome fridge and arrangement of food. Although you have departed from my life, the memory of you will forever linger.

I will never forget you, [redacted]. (:

(Thank you for leaving the mirror, the Pet Sematary poster, a gum wrapper, and a plastic cup filled with water, by the way.)

Wednesday’s Fun Fact:

Anyone can be an artist. Actually, if you think about it, there is something so artistic about existence itself.

Have a nice day, person.

Author: Callie Matthews

"I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right." - The Book Thief

6 thoughts on “An Obituary for [Redacted]”

  1. This was so sad. All those memories and objects left behind. smh.
    This was really funny, I loved how you put the “redacted” in the place of who you were talking about to keep it mysterious. Your writing is so intriguing and fun to read and I enjoy it so greatly.

  2. Awe Callie 🙁 I’m right next door if you wanna ramble about Percy Jackson to someone. Also, this had a comedic feel with an underlying sadness. You’re so talented.

  3. I love this obituary! Also, I agree that anyone can be an artist. Even a chair is artistic in its own way.

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