Justin and I have spent the past four days trying to move. We were in Murray Tuesday and Wednesday and then working to close up her apartment yesterday and today. And now. Now we are finished, and I’m just not sure where to go or what to feel from here.
Relief that it’s all finished? That everything is safely in one place? That we (particularly I) didn’t break anything? Yes, absolutely. Devastation that it’s all real and final? More than I ever imagined. Moving Augusta wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be because she wasn’t here anymore. It was supposed to be to a house. To a place where we could have family dinners and enough room for Robbie to run around. To a place with enough room to display her beautiful dishes.
And so, this afternoon as we had everything out of the apartment and stood there for one last time, I did the only thing I could. I sobbed. For the finality of it all. For everything that wouldn’t be.
I don’t feel any better. I don’t feel any worse. I am still, as I feared, numb. But, perhaps, as we close these chapters, the numbness will fade and I will begin to remember my life and how to function. Eventually.