You’d think by now that we would be getting used to the change that came into our lives so abruptly on February 17, 2008. For the most part, we look like any normal family doing normal things. (Although, perhaps calling us normal looking might be a bit of a stretch. We are a peculiar lot. 🙂 )
Still. Life will never quite be as ‘normal’ and simple as it was before. Sometimes it gets downright complicated.
I have been bitten by the redecorating bug, and am in the process of reorganising the tv room, which formerly doubled up as Jenna’s playroom. I want to turn the room into a cozy den for hubby and I, or for the kids and their friends, and since color is the thing that speaks to me most when I am decorating, I have wanted to move everything that ‘doesn’t go’ anymore, out.
I am grateful to be able to pass Jenna’s big pink dollhouse on to her bestest friend Joseph’s little sister. I didn’t want to pass it on to a stranger. I am really OK with letting it go, though it took hubby a little longer to agree.
It is the colorful plastic drawers that I moved into the walk-in closet in that room that bites. It would be so fine if I could reorganise the stuff in those drawers to make space for the the pairless socks that I stubbornly hold onto, or the growing pile of sheet music that hubby drags home after each church service. It could hold a sizeable chunk of all those other little odds and ends that spill out of their baskets or off the shelves and cry out for better organisation.
It bites, it really does. I am not ready to empty the contents of those drawers, or even to move the contents into another space. They contain the teaset and slice-a-rific sets we had given Jenna for her last Christmas with us, the dolls that went with her dollhouse, a miniature princess castle that enamoured her the moment she laid eyes on it. I pulled open one drawer, and at the very top was a teacup she had played with a few short days before she left this house for good, the inside still encrusted with sugar.
I sat on the floor and sobbed. Part of me was angry because if Jenna were here with us I would have no qualms about moving her stuff around. But she is not, and I am so torn between wanting to keep everything the way it was and moving on. Seeing her things spark memories, and I don’t want them to fade. If Jenna were here her things would mean little to me, but now they are all I have.
I am letting go, little by little. There is a bag of soft toys downstairs that I will be taking to Goodwill soon, but I arranged them all together in groups and took their picture before dumping them in the bag. For memories’ sake.
I will be taking pictures of her teaset and dolls and castle one day. But right now I am not quite ready. And part of me wishes that I was.