Our bodies are battered from the physical work of loading and unloading and cleaning and moving. Late nights. Early mornings. But we are almost there.Slept in the new house twice. Have to be out of the old house by the end of Sunday. Tomorrow or Sunday we will give it one final clean and probably swim in the pool one more time. It’s funky. Trying not to indulge the sad parts of this. Just keep moving, you know? Of course life isn’t supposed to be one big ball of happiness or anything, but I’m just tired of feeling sad. And this is a good event, so if I ignore my twinges of fear and pangs of times passing away before us, that’s OK, right?
We are very fortunate to have had Gordon’s mom, Mae here all week helping us. She’s done so much. We wouldn’t be in this good of shape if she wasn’t here. Her boyfriend came down from Ohio last evening and he will be taking her home on Sunday so there’s another (less exhausted) man around to help with the heavy lifting.
Her visit has also been good to kind of let some healing happen between Gordon and her. Trust and anger issues. She went to prison for stealing a bunch of money from her employer and is recently free. Also, her boyfriend, in his undying loyalty to her, placed some demands on Mae’s sister (which he had no right to do) and did so in a hurtful way. So there’s been some bad blood of which, in the typical style of Gordon’s family, nobody has spoken. But whatever. Maybe it’s better to left things unsaid. I’m not necessarily very happy with the choices I’ve made to express my feelings to my own mother. It’s too late to fix anything now.
But yes, this is a happy time. Also we have family that loves us around to help. Yet I’m counting the moments until everyone is gone and I can just stretch out into the new home and cry.