Moving Day

One by one, I'm finishing the cumbersome tasks that came my way as a result of Roxanne's death. The most recent one was a big one: Getting her things packed and moved into my small apartment from her office next door. It was a lot harder than the last time I moved things. I guess that comes with age.

I had to have everything out by Wednesday morning, and with some help, it was done. Luckily, this coincided with a few days off. Due to the weather (sub-freezing temps and a couple of inches of snow), I saw the logic of remaining inside with heat and without the whpping wind. So it's been recovery time.

My running joke right now is that my living room looks lke a storage bin. Its true. I've yet to clear out even a place to sit. The couch is drowning in boxes and bags.

The emotional weight of going through her belongings is not as heavy as I'd imagined. When I come across something sentimental, it hits me, but it also makes me think of all the special things I loved about her. I've learned that surprises throw me off stride, so as long as I'm prepared to have the rug ripped from underneath me every so often, things are okay. I've been gradually sorthing through her things since she passed away, so It's getting familiar.

This pattern of rummaging through things has become a kind of therapy for me. I wonder what I'll do for distraction when this task is finally finished. But considering my procrastination, and her pack rat mentality, that may be a long time.

For right now, if you're planning on coming over, better bring your own chair. Better still, bring a couple of boxes and some packing tape.