R. moves back to Los Angeles a week from today. Hawai`i never worked out for him, though he did his share to stack the odds against him.
So I'm sad to see him go. Maybe LA will be better. He's got family. But maybe LA means death, a giving up. I don't think he knows what he'll do there - it's just not here, and there aren't many bridges left to burn here.
At some point this weekend we'll get together for one last round of drinking. At some point he needs to come over and go through the last of his things. He'll leave a lot behind, but I'm not sure what I'll be doing with it. What do I need or want with the Christmas ornaments that he originally bought with his ex? Or all the books on Japan?
So I'll be doing some house cleaning too soon after, and cutting more threads that connect me to the past. It'll be hard, if only because it seems we do this far too often & that life moves on with such relentlessness these days that our links to yesterday sometimes threaten to disappear altogether.