This week stands tall and intimidating, looming like an emotional gauntlet.
Monday I will take the boys to see their new house for the first time. I moved for the first time when I was Tucker's age, so I know that he will remember little of Cherryhurst Lane. He will remember fondly, but he will remember little. The lives and loves of my boys will unfold in our new home.
Monday evening, Tuesday evening, and Wednesday evening, we will pack. I have planned packing parties with guests and friends and music and dinner and boxes and tape and markers. (Feel free to join us. There's plenty to go around.)
Valentine's Day is on Thursday. I have nothing more to say about this right now.
My home will be empty on Friday. Our spirit will leave, and it will become merely a house.
I am teaching Thursday, speaking on Friday, and leading on Saturday.
I am excited, energized and embracing the change.
I am sad, depleted, and delaying the change.
I miss him today.
Hey teammate, we kicked it together. We were invincible.
I'm packing the house tonight. You would know how to do this. Please don't laugh if I do it wrong. And please bring to my mind anything I'm forgetting.
You sang to me in my dream last night. A melody to carry me. Perhaps, still we are invincible. Perhaps, still we simply are.
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We are allowed to be deeply into basketball, or Buddhism, or Star Trek, or jazz, but we are not allowed to be deeply sad. Grief is a thing that we are encouraged to “let go of,” to “move on from,” and we are told specifically how this should be done.
~ Cheryl Strayed, Love of My Life