Shaking with fear, I realize I am actually going to have to move out of the house I shared with my daughter soon. I fear touching her precious things. I fear somehow diminishing her memory. I irrationally fear she won’t be able to find her way back home.
I believed I would have more time. Time when the house’s construction projects would be completed. Time when our house would be on the market. Time for the closing to progress. Time to come to terms with everything. Ultimately, I just want more time with my daughter.
If I was in a logical frame of mind, I would see the idea of having a four-bedroom house to myself is ridiculous.
Constance’s father will have the house empty and listed in the next few weeks. He needs to “move on” with his life. I find his sentiment singularly fanciful. Moving means my plan to keep my daughter’s room in museum-quality preservation for the near term is just another dream about her future that is not going to happen.
I am moving my daughter’s things into public storage. I can’t be the first person to cry there.
Day 21 is at https://www.wantmybabyback.com/blog/day-21
Paula, thank you for sharing that. I can imagine that journey. Thank you for sharing and for the much needed hugs. XO
Because my son died in an accident at home, part of me wanted to sell the house and another part couldn't face giving up his home. We are still there today. It took me 5 YEARS to finally go through all his things. My husband actually gave me an ultimatum - either I could do it or he would. I did it by myself so I could keep things that were important to me. He would have just cleared out the room and donated everything. And I did it by myself so he and my older son wouldn't have to watch me cry the whole time; it's something neither can handle and they are the only ones I work hard…
You are brave. Thank you for sharing your story.