Yes. I understand. The 17th was diagnosis day. I still have to clean out the nightstand on his side of the bed. Why can’t I touch it? Because it might explode. In there are clay picture frames my kids’ chubby hands made for him. A music box with our wedding invitation lacquered to the top, hiding miscellaneous coins from his travels. His reading glasses. Why are they still there? Why can’t I make myself move them? I could use the space for my pajamas.
Sheryl, there will be a day it feels ok to move them, to open the drawer, to do all the things. It’s not now. And that’s both natural and more than okay. ❤️
Yes. I understand. The 17th was diagnosis day. I still have to clean out the nightstand on his side of the bed. Why can’t I touch it? Because it might explode. In there are clay picture frames my kids’ chubby hands made for him. A music box with our wedding invitation lacquered to the top, hiding miscellaneous coins from his travels. His reading glasses. Why are they still there? Why can’t I make myself move them? I could use the space for my pajamas.
Sheryl, there will be a day it feels ok to move them, to open the drawer, to do all the things. It’s not now. And that’s both natural and more than okay. ❤️
Glad u found it. Like Pooh says about Christopher Robin, “even when we’re apart, we’re together!”