My oldest moved back home today. Technically yesterday, but we arrived today with his stuff. It was a long long drive between Revelstoke & Kamloops and finally home to Squamish.
But him moving home means needing a room to sleep in.
The only available room for him is in the garage.
I went in there for a moment to figure out where to start cleaning up. The garage needs to be cleared out of all belongings, things protected and things binned up to be stored in the shed.
This is where a lot of Mark’s stuff is. I’m looking at this room, realizing that it needs to be done, but I can’t make myself do it.
My heart is broken, knowing that moving his stuff, even for a good reason, is the beginning of the acceptance that he’s gone… and there’s a part of me that does NOT accept that.
It’s breaking me.
I can’t let my kid go through them – I need to. I need to touch things as they’re moved from the garage to wherever their new home will be…
I think if my son hadn’t moved home, it would be a long time before that garage was cleaned out.