Well, it has been a busy several days and yet, they have not been exactly what I expected.
How many times have I said that phrase lately, “not what I expected?” It raises an obvious question about the disconnect between my expectations and reality.
Frankly, even though we both loved this house, I thought moving would be easier. For crying out loud, you died here; the new, bigger house is on water, how can this be hard?
I think it is in part the culmination of finalities, the sadness of packing 50 years of family photos and picking up the memorial glass from the funeral home. Not sure why I thought doing all of this in the span of 6 days would be a good or easy thing.
And yet… how can reminiscing about you and our former life ever be a bad thing? Still, it is another wave of grief to deal with. Rather, it is a series of waves rolling in one after another, each with their wave of grief rolling over the rail of our ship.
Our son Heath sent me out of the room a couple of times when the emotions of packing the remaining clothes for donation or the packing of memorabilia with attached memories and emotions became too intense.
Looking over photos and recalling the time, place and memory of each evoked a visceral reaction. Your spark, spunk and fun loving spirit lives large in the photos and memories.
I’ve mentioned before that life from here forward is a series of firsts and the last few days has presented several firsts.
I’m starting to wonder if my expectation that this will eventually get easier is another of those misplaced expectations. Is it possible that this, like chronic pain, just becomes easier to live with? I remember watching you, both with cancer and RA, grow accustomed to the pain and discomfort. If so, I must find a new place of God’s grace for this life or season.
So as not to end on a down note, there have been many chuckles and laughs as I go through this process. You used to say that I could laugh at my own jokes, turns out I can laugh at ours by myself as well.
Brad