Saying Good Bye All Over Again

The time has finally come; we’re moving my Dad out of his home as he prepares to wed mid-October. It’s been an emotional journey, a difficult, ugly-cry, all the sobbing one pair of eyes can handle, EMOTIONAL JOURNEY. I’ve tossed so many items that lingered after my mom passed away. I’ve sat and stared at her bed, the vision of her laying there wrangled with pain the day I sent her back to the hospital; the day she left her home for the last time. I’ve fought with my Dad to get him to start packing, continue packing, find more boxes, buy more tape, sell the stuff, toss the stuff, NOT send the stuff to my house.
As my life continues with the daily ins and outs of raising four children, working part time and giving my time to ministry, I’m forgetting to take time for myself. It’s an innate part of my person that when I see a need, I help. I find a way to meet the need; either personally or through connecting someone else better suited to meet the need, with the need.  That means making calls, sending texts, coordinating drop offs, pick ups and donation locations.
Tonight, as I loaded up a moving truck and my husbands work van with my Dad’s belongings, I was forced to take a moment for myself. I was forced to cry, to sob, to weep. To feel the emotions I’ve kept so carefully tucked just below the surface. I wept for the claw-foot table that my mom adored. A newly-wed purchase from an elderly church member who was downsizing, it holds no heirloom worth. To me though, the table is an integral part of my life. It’s always been there. In a few short days, it’ll serve a new family, holding their pictures or candy dishes or potted plant. The special meaning behind the table lost forever.
Before I set to the task of penning this post, I sent this message to my dear friend. I share it here so I don’t forget, so that you can start to understand, so that another working their way through a similar situation will know their not alone:

“I hit my emotional point tonight. I just can’t. Moving my dad out of the home he shared with my mom…. oh my word. knowing I’ll never step into that room again, see her bed there and be teleported back to the day I sent my mom back to the hospital. Never celebrating another Christmas there where we all honor her through her chair by not sitting in it…
 her Adirondack chair is rotting and has to be trashed. she loved that chair. She painted it RED because there was a ‘loud’ part of her that loved being vibrant in life. Her joy came in sitting outside in that chair listening to the birds in the morning, basking in Gods creation.”
To finish the thought: I never would have thought that the mourning of my mom would come about with my dad moving. There are so many intricate parts of losing a loved one that no one and no thing can prepare you for.
I have two weeks, with my Dad living with me, before the wedding. Two weeks to try and wrap my emotions up in a little bundle so I can tuck them neatly away and be present, mostly for the sake of my children. That’s a whole new post in and of itself.
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