“It’s Time to Let Me Go.”

My son-in-law had some repair work done on his home from a water line break, but when they found mold in the walls in his kitchen, the insurance company put him and my Gambaby up in a hotel room. I visited him and my Gambaby at the hotel every day while the repair commenced, which proved to have spread to much more than just the kitchen walls. Several days into the repair, my SIL gave me a plastic room key card to access the services: the access doors, continental breakfasts, the pool, extra towels, etc. and we made an otherwise tedious stay a memorable one.

Shortly after my SIL and Gambaby were able to return to their home, my SIL’s cancer got the better of him and he was hospitalized. He never made it home again after that.

The other day I found the hotel room key card in a pocket of one of my bags. It was one of the Hilton Honors key cards that proclaimed that you no longer needed the card to gain access, that they now had an app you could download. I have not been able to get rid of the card.

It reads, “It’s time to let me go.”

I miss him and my Gambaby so much sometimes it tears me apart, so maybe it is time, but I’m not there yet.