Cleaning up in the bathroom she used. Lotions, soaps, shampoos, ointments, tinctures, shower gel, hair gel, probably some gel gel. Being donated to a charity supporting battered women. They are getting it all, unopened and partially used.

Well, not everything. Loofa gloves, which I didn’t know existed, yes. Razor and toothbrush, no. I’m sure they could be sterilized, but there’s a line somewhere.

None of that stuff, even the highly personal things, caused an emotional tweak in me. She is the one who opened it, the only one who ever used it, and her hand placed it in the medicine chest. But those things were tools, replaceable without a second thought. More shampoo, more toothpaste? She stored her backups on a shelf at the grocery store.

But there are things that are significant, that have an emotional component. Her pincushion, placed on a table beside her rocking chair. A collection of buttons, grown organically instead of purchased. And her Bible, marked-up, and closer to her (physically and spiritually) than the pincushion.

Toothbrushes are not essential. The Word, holy scripture, is.