Who gets the pictures?

I wake up at night with the strangest thoughts running through my head.  Who gets the family photo albums?  Who gets the art and sentimental things we bought together?  Do they just get packed away?  Do the kids take them?  Do you want them?  Since we don’t talk, I don’t have those answers.  Well to be clear, I talk, and you do not respond.  And even I have stopped talking.  Doesn’t mean I stopped caring, doesn’t mean I’m not hurting or needing to talk.  I just can’t take another “I don’t know” as an answer.  Or another blank stare either at me or the ground.  Why can’t you look at me? Why can’t you tell me what is in your head?  If I ask you, the response I get will be either I don’t know or nothing.  We are at a point where the end of a 35+ year relationship and a 30 (almost 31) year marriage is looming over our heads.  And you are thinking of nothing?  Not a fucking thing?  You are okay with one of us just walking out the door and never looking back?  Wow.  

I guess it goes back to control.  You control our communication by not communicating.  You control your emotions by not touching me.  I’m sad, lonely, depressed – are you?  Are you waiting?  Waiting for me to break?  Waiting for me to make it all better, again?  For the 100th time in our relationship.  Waiting for me to accept, again, you not communicating with me?  Waiting for things to go back to “normal”?  I can’t do it again.  I can’t.  I won’t.  Or will I?  Do I have the strength to end the cycle?  Do I have the strength to destroy a family?  Do I have the strength to be selfish?  Is it being selfish?  Fuck.  

Who has the step-by-step book on how to end a marriage successfully and painlessly? In my dreams, right? There is no such thing.

So, I ask, again, who gets the pictures?