I know they were together for four years.  I know they were engaged.  I know they lived together.  I’m not worried that Greg is going to leave me and run away with her.  But I’ve grown so weary of the remnants of her presence. 

I’m sick of her wedding dress hanging in his closet.  I’m sick of her mail coming to the house.  I don’t want to hear minute details of how she lived her daily life…I don’t really need to know that she only shaved her legs up to the knee or that she had leather seats in her car or that her grandma was nice or what size clothes she wore.  I hate that picture that’s laying on the floor under his nightstand.  I want her name to stop coming up in conversation.  I’m just tired of being reminded that she was there.