My house is packed. Save for a few odds and ends, it is done. When Marie came over yesterday to help me with the rest, I showed her my EMPTY master closet. Her eyes got big and she burst out the "Hallelujah" song. Yes, it was a moment for praise.
Father in law came and cleaned out our storage closet. He took most of the stuff with him to store in his garage. There are only a few items left.
My back hurts, I have sore muscles in my arms, of all places, but, it's done.
Husband was better yesterday. Not great, but, better. To see your life packed up in boxes, that is, what I've kept, is hard for me too. I have given away so much stuff. I have to. We are going from a 3 bdrm, 2 bath home to a 1 bdrm, 1 bath apartment. Can we say, small? Yep, I had to get rid of so much. Actually, it felt good to rid myself of it all.
Fresh start. For me. Husband is not included in those plans. He doesn't know this. This apartment is for me only. When husband passes, I have to be able to survive, alone. It has to be manageable. It has to be safe for me.
Husband thinks I did this for us. In a way, yes I did, but, I'm thinking long term. He's just not included in the long term.
When I replay that last sentence in my head, it doesn't bring me to my knees. It doesn't make me cry. It doesn't even make me sad. This is life. And death. I've come a long way. I've accepted the fact that my husband, in all probability, will not live to see another Christmas. And, I'm OK with it all.
Some readers may think how cold I am. No, not cold. If one could see husband, how he is now, well, I'm sure you'd think the same. He suffers so. Enough of the suffering.
Onward and upward. This final stage will be hard. I know. He will suffer. But, the end result will end with him in Heaven and, me? I'll have a place to live.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I'm striving for.