The day arrived like any other day. Since we sold our home and car and moved downtown, we now woke at 6:30 with plenty of time to roll out of bed, brush my teeth, and still be online by 7am. But that day was different. That day was my last day. Even though I knew this, I was not really sure it registered. I logged in and walked through my regular routine. My daily standup now officially belonged to my boss, and I listened quietly while the team listed out there tasks and roadblocks for the day, realizing I had no more direction to give. I was suddenly and clearly obsolete. I cleaned out email, answered a few Skype calls, and then it was time. I scrolled over to the little Windows icon, right clicked, and hesitated. It was hard to select shutdown. I stared at the word, unable to click the mouse. Eh, one more look at email. Nothing there. Right click, shutdown. As the laptop processed that request, I was processing mine. In an instant it was gone…all gone. The family I built over the years, in a single act, felt as if it faded to nothing. My screen went black. A piece of me died in that moment.
The Last Day
