“Shit! Look at the crap piled up in there.” Normally, David Collingsworth enjoyed his short walk to his mailbox. However, since his grandmother had died 11 months earlier his enjoyment of “mailboxing” (as he called his walks to it) had somewhat faded during the months following her passing. Today, instead of the usual mail being insurance, banking and funeral home correspondence, to pick up, sort through, and send payments for, it was all “crapmail.” The “crapmail” was the first since last December when his grandmother, Christine Collingsworth, had died from ovarian cancer at age 77. His walks to the mailbox at that time had been glum and it didn’t help that it was freezing and there was still snow on the ground. The short half-block trip had worn him down emotionally back then. As if he hadn’t been depressed enough he had had to go through the paperwork of his inheritance with her attorney. When he discovered that she had been much more wealthy than he had envisioned it also took a toll. By late February David had gotten through the worst of his ordeal and was attempting to learn to live without taking care of his grandma.