I am moving at the end of the month, so this weekend I have begun the packing process. First, you get the boxes and put them in the garage and just look at them. And then the only word that runs the rodeo in your head is “work”.
I really shouldn’t complain, after all I live in a tiny house, 480 square feet. This tiny cottage on 33rd Street was the perfect cocoon to move in to after Paul died four years ago this week. When I returned from Costa Rica earlier this year, a relationship changed and so did I.
Time to spread my wings, time to move, time for breathing room.
This move is bringing grief back to my surface. Memories are drifting by as I pack things that remind me of Paul. Items that were on the back of a shelf are reminders of him. Books that were his, books that I have yet to read. Two favorite pictures of us. The memory bears I had made from his button down shirts and sock monkeys we used to laugh about.
And yet, this is all a renewed release of feelings. I am moving to a place with more space! A real kitchen with counter space! A guest bedroom, a home office. Better yet, a garage! I will be closer to the Boise foothills trails again, closer to friends, and live in a neighborhood.
You know what? I think I am going to change my haircut, too. Why not!? Change is good, and I have always welcomed change in my life. For me, change is not a challenge but a goal.
Grief does come in waves. Thank goodness I know how to swim.
#Grief #GrievingAgain #LifeLesson