5:57am. I’ve been up since 2:30... another sleepless night. I feel it in my chest but I don’t know what’s going on in my head. My mind has been running black film strips for days.
Yesterday was the last time I’ll be at mine and Courts house. I may have another one in the future but for us, that was it. I pulled up the driveway and opened my front door anxiously waiting for the chime of our ring home security system. That sound wasn’t there because I had since uninstalled it but, the noise still chimed in my head. I was on a mission. Say goodbye. I didn’t know how to do that or what that meant or if what I did that day, that moment would be what I needed to do in the future. But, no regErts (yes, I meant that typo- feels significant to the situation) and I did what I did to say my goodbye and to honor the walls, floors, windows and doors that showed Court and I how to create a home filled with love. 154 Highmeadow Lane. The silence that fills that house now is daunting. Each step and door closing echoed. Emptiness. I was reflecting the other day when asked to think about how I’d like to honor my house. The last time that house was “echo empty” was the day after our wedding. Court and I went to our home, popped a bottle of champagne and took it in. We had waited 6 months for this moment. We sat in beach chairs our living room floor. Laughing, talking, reminiscing about the most amazing wedding day anyone could have asked for. Then, in our home we got our first teaser pictures. Court and I were blown away. We called our photographer, Kelsey and raved about those photos and thanked her over and over again. They captured our love perfectly. I’m grateful Kelsey saved that voicemail and sent it to me after Court passed. Memories of our laughter and screams of “omg’s!” Filled that empty echoing house. A movie reel filled with photos and memories ran through my mind. Christmas, Easter, fires in the back yard, home improvements and DIY projects, cooking, relaxing, bringing Jax home, the laughs, the love, the arguments and then, June 10th and reality of my black film strip returned. I still don’t know how I’m feeling. Sick to my stomach- but, I can’t pinpoint where I’m at. I’m tired I can tell you that. 10 hours of sleep (if I’m lucky) in 3 days is no fun. Anticipating tomorrow’s closing is no fun. I need something to occupy my mind.
“Maybe if I weigh myself it will help me feel better.” Said this idiot to herself at 4:30 in the morning during a global quarantine. Sometimes my ideas are truly not that great... If I don’t know how I’m feeling or can’t wrap my head around my emotions how is stepping on a scale going to help? So I can use that number to blame myself for how I’m feeling? On a scale of 1-10 how disgusted are you with yourself and how hopeless do you feel right now? You’re selling your house, your wife is gone. No matter how hard you want her back it’s not happening. You‘ve lost your person, your cheerleader, your safety, your love, your world. How are you going to get it together? How are you going to be better and do better and work to get yourself back up?
Win the lottery? But, you gotta play to win... I’m playing “life” but, I sure don’t think I’m winning.
On a lighter note, Jax is winning. A once homeless and abandoned pupper, he’s now sleeping on a Tempur-Pedic pillow with his own blanket. Maybe I should start taking notes...
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