The Bank
Before we leave the island for the last time we make a stop at the bank. It's not open yet and we have a ferry to catch so I ask them to let us in. One of the women in the bank recognizes you and unlocks the door. We conduct your business in chairs at her desk, you are too weak to stand at the counter. When you look at me you seem small in your clothes, you're trying to communicate something to me with your eyes, it feels like you are saying I need you to take the wheel now. The woman from the bank suggest some things regarding your accounts that might make it easier for me to manage your money. She realizes you are sick and not getting better, I am trying not to think about it, staying firmly in each moment. We empty out your safe deposit box and I sit patiently while you sign your Canada Savings Bonds over to cash. Your signature is weak and uncharacteristic of your former self.
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