So today sucked. I thought it would suck because it’s a Saturday in Cleveland boxing up a gross house of a dead lady; who by the end was so unrecognizable she probably couldn’t tell you who she was let alone remember why she told basically everyone she came in contact with why her daughters abandoned her and she’s the obvious victim. But, it sucked for so many more reasons. Boxing up things means moving on.
Closure.
Finality.
I’m not sure I’m ready to be done. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so so grateful that there are people detached enough from my situation willing to help to step around me while I stare at the silverware.
I don’t know what it is about that house…
I can’t focus.
I can’t breath.
I can’t think.
I can’t move.
I get lost in memories and lost conversations and fights and sleepovers and birthday parties and bonfires and Christmas mornings.
Hiding liquor bottles and begging her not to drink that day.
Asking why I wasn’t enough…
Back to the silverware. Deep breath, I want to hate her. I want to light a match a walk away. But I can’t. Because I do in the back of my mind remember when she loved me.