The sound of the alarm came too early. Literally. The kid's alarm and it's familiar increasing beeps woke me up from the other side of the wall. Reality set in, again. No, I was not in the house I helped to make 'our own' with him. I was in the room I slept in and grew up in until I left for college. Then it hit me....in the next hour I would be leaving this room---not to go back home to stay, but to pack up the life I have been living for the past six years.
Jimena picks me up--and I begin the process of preparing myself for the finality of it all.
Arrival. Open garage door, walk through the door and move from room to room. Check bookshelves. Go through desk. DVD's. Hard to breathe. Memories, memories, memories. Move to the kitchen, pack up the tools of the trade. Spare rooms. Pack up my crafts anything else.
10:00am-The Master Bedroom
Here I stand looking at a bed we once shared. I can see that his side of the bed is disheveled from where he slept last night. Water glasses on the nightstand, half sipped out of---per the usual. His pajama pants and shorts hanging on the tall dresser knobs, where he always puts them. My side of the bed is neatly covered. It's almost as if he has been ever so careful to not cross the invisible line in the middle of the bed. It's like a memorial to a person who has died. All I want to do is run to his side of the bed, hug his pillows and take him all in. Then I remember, that it isn't my bed anymore. Just as it isn't my house anymore. Just as he isn't mine to take in anymore. As I typed the last sentence, I had to take a moment to process what I had just said.
Enter Mom, Jimena and Stephanie.....
Thank God for them. They just sort of take charge while I stand there trying to keep myself together. When everything is out and they have gone outside to put things in the truck I stand there and take one last look around. At this point, I have already broken down two times. My entire body is shaking---and honestly--I feel like I am living in a dream. Jimena comes back into the room---and opens my empty closet doors...
"I want him to see this empty closet." She says....
So, I let her do it, and then I stand there crying.
Close the garage door---and end a 6 year chapter of my life.
After moving everything out yesterday---something inside of me felt relieved. By the end of the night, however--that relief had subsided and the reality of all this came back for a visit. As my dad said--when he was trying to get me to move on:
It's Over. He does not want you anymore.
Some of you might think that is mean for Dad to say. It's just his own way of dealing with things. I know that there are many individuals in this world who deal with break-ups every single day. They hurt. You cry, you feel lost, shallow, empty, hopeless. You ask questions that you know you're never going to get the answer to. All of these behaviors, all of these thoughts are normal. I woke up at 6am, after having a dream that he was embracing me. He was hugging me and telling me he was sorry, but he just can't give me what I want. That was my brain (the rational side of it at least), telling me that I need to move on---because I know in my heart of hearts.....
This is over. He does not want me anymore.
As hard as that is for a person to accept....it is the bare truth. Yet, I still keep asking questions---like a kid who doesn't get a math problem. The math is there, it's logical and calculated. There is an answer, and it is the only definitive answer you can get. I see the answer, but I'm not fully understanding how we arrived at it.
For the past week (which has felt like an entire year), everyone has been telling me that I now need to work on myself. Which, I know that I have needed to do for some time. He has tried to tell me that he knows I need to work on myself. When I gained weight, I wasn't happy. I never did anything about it. Maybe he got tired of me being me---or the way I had been for the past three or so years. I feel like I did this somehow. Now, he is gone.
This broken record has to end now........