So the house was packed and ready to go. I wasn’t. Or maybe I was. Either way I had to live with it for more than a week. Empty walls. Bare countertops. A cold, emotionless shell. This was no longer our home. It was simply a house. A place for people to rest their heads at night. Eat. But the warmth, laughter and love was packed away. In boxes. Ready to be moved elsewhere. It would all come with me. For now, I just had to sit in the cold. It wasn’t easy. I remembered the parties. Ryan’s 18th. Ashley’s 18th. Graduation. Adam and Katrina’s engagement. Ashley and Tyler’s engagement. So many celebrations. So many happy moments. The house filled with family, friends, and fun. So much fun. But now, it was empty. Lonely. And quiet. I kept busy. Tried to stay away. I used to love to be home. Now I just wanted to be out.
Thursday came. Moving day. UGH! Five, six, seven buffed up dudes showed up at my door. Ready, set, roll! They were packing, taping, wrapping, shuffling, and carting away like busy worker bees harvesting honey. I wasn’t sure what to do. I held Lucy. Sat on a barstool. Kept looking around as the house emptied out. A few tears escaped every now and then. How could they not? 22 years. My home. Our home. This should not be happening. Or if it was, it should be different. But here it was. And I was moving on. 9 1/2 hours later, I sat on the floor. The empty shell of our home echoed from the silence. And I waited.
My angels were coming. From San Diego. “Mama” angel had called several hours before and said they were coming that afternoon. These angels were just too good to be true. But they were. And I knew that when they got there I would be okay. So I waited. In the silence. With the memories. And the tears.
To be continued…
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