We are in the midst of building works. Surrounded by boxes and clutter.
Bits and pieces of this and that – that have been stored out of sight and out of mind. Toys from when the kids were little. Trinkets. Crafts. Books. Photos.
To be dealt with later.
To be held onto just in case.
Or kept because it is has played an important part in our lives.
I’ve covered most of it with sheets and throws while it all waits to be sifted and sorted.
I feel anxious, excited and liberated as I anticipate the physical and emotional energy required to shift it all when the time comes.
We will have to examine and discuss.
Should we store again? Where we will store it? Will we pass it on or throw it away?
Stirring up the clutter stirs up memories and emotions – lots we would prefer not to discuss or face.
Yet there will be some comfort and some new insights to be had from revisiting our harder, sadder times.
Important back stories to be shared.
Stories of all the love that carried us through those times.
Reminders that Mick lived and loved us here.
It will never be fair or make sense that my children don’t have their own memories of their father.
It will always hurt.
Some stories we will unpack and look at. Others we will put away for later.
I will follow the lead of my heart and the hearts of my children.
We will store Mick’s stuff in the heart of our home. In a central new cupboard.
It might have been easier to keep everything where it was. Then we wouldn’t be stirred up.
But I know in my bones that it is time to let go and lean in to some of the pain and stories again.
Time yet again to be with some of the memories and our story – as we lay the foundations for the next chapter and the one after that.
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