In a box the other day, I found a photo album of Nancy's, which I rescued from Peter and Nancy's house in 2005 with the thought that someone in Nancy's family would probably want it. It's been sitting in a box in my garage ever since.
I emailed Nancy's daughter, but she didn't want it, and the photos that I thought were of her turned out to be of a relative of hers. She gave me a phone number for Nancy's sister, whom I hadn't known existed. I just had a mildly uncomfortable/unsettling phone call with her; not awful, but she wanted to talk about things more than I did, and she misheard me and thought I was Peter's brother instead of his son, which led to some further awkward confusions. Anyway, I'll be dropping off the photo album at her house; she said I could just leave it on the porch. It turns out she didn't hear about what happened until months afterward, so she didn't get any of Nancy's stuff, so I think she'll be glad to have this album.
I'm doing okay, just a little rattled. On the plus side, I suspect that in the past it would've taken me months to get up the courage to make contact with each of them, instead of minutes; can't be sure, but I suspect the Lexapro is helping here.