I have picked out a casket for my husband. Planned his funeral. Dealt with media attention. Stared my husband's killer in the eyes. I have stared into the empty grave that will one day house my body. I have stared into that same grave that now houses my eternal companion's body. I have nursed injured babies back to health. I have gone back to work. I have gotten up every single day for the past 33 months and tended to children and all that life has had in store, even though I've wanted to stay in bed all day, if even for one whole day. It has never happened. There has been no time for such a thing.
None of that could've prepared me for this next phase. This is by far the most emotionally taxing, heart wrenchingly draining.
I sort of mistakenly thought the most difficult days were over.
Wrong. They'll continue to creep up throughout my lifetime.
It's all just "stuff." Why does stuff make things so difficult? We can't take stuff with us when we die. But maybe that is why I cling to it so much--it is all I have that is still tangibly Adam. This house. The memories in it are him. Every square inch of this house. The way we studied it before we bought it. The way he looked when sitting on the stairs and tying his shoes. The way he smelled when he came in and put his dirty laundry in the laundry room after mowing the lawn. The hundreds of hours of time for us. Just us.
It's all emotionally draining.
It seemed like really bad timing that I had a sick child this week and had to take off 4 days of work. But I realized I sort of needed mental health days along with him being sick. I guess it was good timing for our family in that regard.
Still I cling to so much that is tied to this house. This was ours. Not anyone else's memories, but just the memories of our little family. That feels good. That was what I wanted in life. It is one of the things that I didn't realize I had until it was gone--it is no longer complete.
I went and sat in the basement and stared at everything for a very long time today. Stuff on shelves, I knew that it was the beginning to some major organizing and dejunking. It is quite overwhelming. Adam was supposed to help me pack and prepare this house for moving 2 years ago. I suppose this was the one "last" thing that he was supposed to help me with and so it opens so many raw wounds.
There are moments when I feel so completely paralyzed. I play the "what if" game in my mind and it brings me back to square one with my emotions and my grief. It hurts. I want to run away and deny that I have to do this. I flip flop all over again. I second guess myself.
No.
I will not do that. I KNOW this was the right time to sell this house. I KNOW that it is going to the right person and family. It all adds up nicely and I don't for one second feel that selling it was wrong.
It's just a well of nervousness for the future. Will the move work. Will we like our new house/neighbors/school/city. Will it feel like home.
I don't like the unknown and I've pretty much jumped into it with both feet. I will have to put on the strong mom face and act like it'll be "just fine" so the boys feel secure while my insides are conflicted.
Adam. I wish you were here. I feel your presence leaving us. I hate that. It scares me. But it confirms to me that it is time for me to figure out the next stage of life and to let you go a bit more. I feel the struggle and I feel your struggle with letting us be for a time. Somehow we will work it out. I don't like it one bit. But I think my heart needs to heal and it is time for it to grow. You are always with me, but it time to stop walking in your shadow and learn what I need to know next. We love you. We pray for you. Just as we are busy, we know you are too. Help us feel at peace with the decisions we've made. There are still many ahead.
