Days passed uneventfully. I returned to him as often as possible, watching the light shine less and less. His bedroom walls were now bare, the posters long gone. I noticed much was missing, actually. Books barely lined the shelves anymore, the dust being the only reminder of what was once sitting there. All that remained were framed family photos and his sisters stuffed dog. Boxes were stacked neatly in corners, presumably where everything ended up.

I sat silently near the foot of the bed on a box with the dog and watched while a woman with graying hair came and removed them one by one. When she came for mine her eyes filled with tears and her pace slowed.

"Why are you doing this," her voice was barely audible. She crossed her arms and looked down.

"Mom, we have talked about this," he sighed in the doorway. His skin was pale and his cheeks long ago hollowed. "What use do I have for these things?" his arm swept across the room, a useless action no one but me saw.

"Why are you just giving up?" she cried harder now, her hands covering her face as she sank to her knees. He rushed to her side as fast as his legs would allow him, he held her as sobs shook the foundation of her being.

It reminded me of when I once was listening to an old woman and her granddaughter years ago. The girl questioned why the grandmother would even consider giving away everything she had owned.

"Well," she started, "I have no need for them anymore. I am too old. It just sits around collecting dust when it could be used more and loved more by someone else."

"I don't understand," the girl said.

"You will one day when you are my age. I often wish I could go back and not care so much about material things. I instead wish I had made more friends, I wish I had spent more time with my family and less on surrounding myself with things that don't love me and only bring joy for a brief moment. It's not like I can take it all with me to the grave, can I?" She tried to smile up at her granddaughter.

"No, I suppose not," the girl shrugged. I took her that night. Not the grandmother, but the girl. It was a hit and run they said. She was a fighter, but in the end, she was mine. The grandmother lasted another year. She passed peacefully with a smile of serenity, surrounded by those she loved dearly.

He was giving his stuff away, she sobbed because she thinks it meant he is giving up. In reality, he is just creating more space in his life for family and less for these material objects. I admire this about him. He values his time left and doesn't want to waste it.