*sniffle*
25-Mar-05
Moving is not just a process of packing things and moving them. It’s also an emotional process, and a very jumbled one. There’s the joy of the new house, and the disappointment as you finally get the buyer-glaze off your eyes and notice things like a rotten wall in the second office which now requires your husband’s office belongings to be put *somewhere* and, since there are no stairs to it, the den seems like a good place “for now.” (He also wants to set up his desk in the den, but I pointed out that he would probably not actually fix the wall if he did that…. I am steadfast.)
And then there’s the process of moving my own office. There’s been this large plastic thing in the corner of my office for a long time now, and I’ve been emotionally unprepared to move it.
I am, of course, talking about Hammer’s crate.
John had the dubious wisdom to put the milk crate of Hammer’s toys inside it, so when I looked at it, I’d see: 1) no doggie, and 2) no space for doggy because of doggy’s unused toys.
Heartbreaking.
Today, I took apart the crate and put it in the living room, along with the box of toys.
I cried the whole time. I’m crying right now, in fact. It’s not the kind of broken-hearted bawling that I experienced before he died, but it’s more of a catharsis. A release of these emotions that don’t stop just because you have a life to live.