Mourning

Mourning:  state of sorrow over a death or departure; the passionate and demonstrative activity of expressing grief.

It has been a rough week.

The past few days of transition, change and emotional upheaval have been very difficult for all involved.  There were numerous teary goodbyes with cherished family and friends.  The girls were quickly realizing that their lives were about to venture drastically into the unknown, and between the three of us we all were feeling a new emotion every few minutes.  Combine all of this with the final stages of packing, closing out the legal aspects, and oh yeah, coming to the realization that the time to leave was really here, well- it was a lot to take.

Tuesday night, as the Expedition was already packed bumper to bumper, I was making the final rounds of each room in the house searching for lost remnants that we might have left behind.  When I went into GG’s room, what I found proved more devastating than any of us realized; Goldie, her pet goldfish, was no longer among the living.


First, let me tell you about Goldie- or, the Wonder Fish as I liked to call him.  Goldie was a gift from Santa when GG was 4.  Let me remind you that she is 10 going on 11, so yes, that makes the goldfish 6 years old.  Seriously, I didn’t even know that was possible.  In all honesty, we were concerned about him being able to make the trip, and in the end it might have been a blessing in disguise because, holy cow that could have been a real tragedy if it had happened on I-75. But even with that being said, I still looked up to the ceiling and just said, “Really?!?!”  


So after one last round of fun with the neighborhood gang, and all of the I-will-miss-yous were complete, GG came home and M and I proceeded to tell her.  She was devastated.  She had that sad, soulful cry that comes from deep inside your heart- right from where it is broken.  We did our best to console her, but being the sensitive and loving person she is, she just took the loss straight to heart. 


We then had to tell Belle, and while this was not her fish, she suddenly was sobbing huge tears, and it was from that same place- from deep inside her heart. 


Hearing both of my girls so broken, not to mention my own sense of loss and heartbreak I was feeling that day, I found myself crying that deep, soulful cry right alongside them.  There we were, the three of us, all crying together, and at this point it really didn’t have anything to do with the goldfish.


Leaving Wednesday was even more of a challenge than I thought it would be.  I had already moved, so I didn’t really give it a second thought.  But right before I pulled out of the driveway, it hit me- I would never return to this house again.  I remember when we bought the house- man, did we feel like we had “made it”.  The huge Luau party we had there, feeding the ducks in the backyard pond, the measurements on the wall from every birthday… lots of memories.  So as I drove in the pre-dawn darkness and the girls still slept, I cried as quietly as I could and mourned the loss of that, too. 


Arriving at the Georgia house Wednesday night- another heavy dose of reality.  After tucking the girls into bed after such a long day, GG said to me “this just doesn’t feel like my life.” Oh, girl- how true those words are.  I told her that I knew exactly how she felt.  After being on the road so much for work, I have made a significant cut in my travel in order to be here for the girls.  I know it’s obviously the right thing, and I can’t tell you how happy I am to have them here, but in so many ways it’s just different than the life I am used to leading. My job, my daily schedule, my personal connections, my support system, my well known surroundings- all changed- and some parts just gone.


After the kids were asleep, I head down to my room- the little sanctuary that I have come to know and love. I slide into bed with it's crisp white sheets but still all cozy and warm, and I sleep really well- it’s good to be back in this space that I have made my own.


This morning, I woke up, and after my sleepy headed children made their way downstairs, I make them a special breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes.  Sitting at the table, looking out into the backyard, I noticed this at the back near the fence:

This rose bush was a scrubby twig that I had transplanted a few months back, not really knowing what it was going to look like, or for that matter if it was going to take at all.  And here, on our first morning together, were 3 red roses in full bloom waiting to greet us.  Yes, I will totally take it as a sign, or whatever you want to call it.  Remembering that I really had not held out much hope for this twig, and that it is already blooming into something beautiful, well, it gives me hope and is a reminder that the best is yet to come.

Morning: Originally referred to sunrise, it is the start of a new day.    

Good Morning, indeed.