The Strange Legacies We Leave

My dad died on Sunday. Today when I was doing dishes, I noticed his coffee mug on the side of the dish rack. That's where it always stayed, waiting for him. For some reason, he didn't like to put it in the cabinet with the rest of the mugs. No, HIS had a unicorn on it and could not be subjected to the cooties of the more common inhabitants of my cupboard. This mug survived The Great Mug Disaster of Nineteen Eighty-somethingorother. He had a small galley kitchen. There was a narrow "wall" that was actually more like a pillar at one end of the kitchen on which he had a rack to hang the mugs on. Well, one day when he was making dinner and doing "ballet", he decided to combine some kind of pirouette with some kind of jete and kicked the whole rack off the wall. No, dad wasn't a dancer, he was a regular guy (mostly) which is what made it all the more embarrassing and caused him to blame it on the cats when his live-in girlfriend asked him what the hell happened to the mugs. A couple survived, one of which was his unicorn mug. His very favorite. That was a close one. Needless to say, he was more careful about combining ballet and cooking. So now I have this mug and I'm wondering what to do with it. Should I put it in the cabinet to catch cooties from my other mugs? Should I use it when I already have two other mugs that are my regular ones? Should I leave it on the rack where he put it? Hmmm...