|charcoal, and white pastel in moleskine|
one day i'm fine. one day i'm not. one day i'm ready to move forward. the next i'm not. one day i think i've done all the grieving i need to do. the next i can't stop the tears. it all feels so raw and so fast.
we're in the process of selling my mom's house. and that entails going through every single item that's in the house. items that belonged to my mom. my mom's life, all in one little house. seeing her 'stuff'' in boxes broke me open and brought me to my knees. all her prized possessions. years of a life lived. all in a few boxes. guilt for letting it go. and nostalgia tugging at my heart strings bringing with it guilt.
my brother says it's all just stuff. i say it's more than just that. or perhaps it is, but i'm just not ready to let it all go yet. i'm taking a lot of what my brother and sister consider 'junk', like her crochet yarns and needles, her sewing patterns, her sewing machine, her knickknacks, and do-dads. they were important to her, she loved these things. how can we just get rid of the things she cared about. i'm not ready to let them go. not just yet. maybe i need some more time with them before i'm ready to let them go. and we haven't even gotten to her clothes and her bedroom items. now that my friends, is going to be hard.
it's not even been a month yet since she's been gone, and already it feels like a lifetime.
maybe we are going to fast.
maybe i need more time to grieve..