This moving thing.....a healing thing.

Sunday Tea 

Saying goodbye to my home ....with the help of the neighbours.... and the people who cared for Robin and those who remember us in this house....thank you.

Thank you to my sister for the photos...and the nasturtiums...and for being there.

And thank you to the dear friend for these sweet meringue kisses.

 Today, talking to my therapist, I realise I'm not just moving house, I'm leaving home......leaving my lifetime with Robin behind....leaving me behind. The identity I forged of being married died with him. You can never stop being a mother but you can stop being a wife. 

I know I'm not a role - but even so it helped me to know myself better - to love and be loved in that safe caldron of marriage feels preferable to this draughtiness of aloneness.

This house holds all that identity so I know I must cut loose if I don't want to always feel like half of myself.

 But I do feel halved. So this moving thing may not help me to feel whole. It's taking me deeper into my sorrow though which can only be a healing thing. Now that I know I can dip into the lake of sadness and come out again without being destroyed.

 So I can answer the solicitor's letters, and call the roofer about the damp in the walls, and do the practical, demanding decision making stuff more easily, more rationally, because I'm not sitting on a iceberg of unshed tears.