Duality of Loss
It’s been a while. So many changes. Staging to sell our house. Selling our house. Packing. Packing. Packing. Finding a new place to live, to call home. Moving. Unpacking. Unpacking. Unpacking. And still unpacking. But feeling at home, nonetheless. This was a really big deal. So many details. So much help and yet not enough help; so much was my own stuff to figure out what to keep and what to let go of, so many bottom lines were mine. Help was easy in the packing up, not so easy in the unpacking. 40 years of stuff, moved......so many emotions. Literally shutting the door to our dream, so that I can create new dreams of my own without Mart. Hard words to write, even harder words to say, to live. And yet, I did it. I could feel Mart’s hand on my back as the tears streamed freely as I pulled the locked door tight behind me. That was it.
And there was Chuck who had been working tirelessly, helping me every night with the zillion move details, waiting to hold me and dry my tears and remind me that everything was going to be okay.
This is the duality of loss.
