Moving…

So, first some back-story for anyone that stumbles onto this site and doesn’t know my story…

In the fall of 2021, my dad moved into our home because of some health concerns. He didn’t want to move in with us, as he didn’t want to be a burden on us. We, as a family, explained that it was easier for us all if he was here because I was going to be taking him to a lot of appointments and such – due to his recent diagnosis of Stage IV bladder cancer. He moved in, and we had him take the master suite, as it is the only bedroom on the main floor, so no stairs to climb. The hubs and I moved to one of the bedrooms upstairs. Fast forward (and skip a whole lotta stuff that I’ll likely get into at some point) to October 15, 2022. That was the day that my sweet Dad took his last breath, and I literally felt his heart stop beating, surrounded by his 4 “kids”, one daughter-in-law, and one niece. He died at 8:45 that morning – in our master bedroom – in our bed.

OK – so you’re caught up now. Well, the scene has been set anyway. You get the idea. Mad props to my hubs – what a patient and kind man he is. To be fair, anyone who would put up with me has to be patient and kind (and a bit mental) but he has really been exceptional during this “caregiver” phase of my life. After Dad died – the bedroom sat. And sat…..and sat.

Finally I decided that in order to move back in there I needed to change it up, so I announced that I would need new furniture. I went out, found bedroom furniture that I thought would work, graphed that out on a “bedroom schematic” he made for me (yeah, we’re THOSE people) and ordered the furniture. Next step – paint the formerly deep maroon wall a different color. I chose and bought the paint. The paint sat. And sat. I gave all of the furniture in the bedroom to someone who needed it….except for the mattress, because we had bought the mattress before Dad moved in, and we liked it as it was adjustable.

So now we have the room with nothing but the mattress and adjustable frame and a wall that needs to be painted – and like a metric crap ton of clutter and crap that I need to go through and decide “keep/donate/trash”, but I digress. Sometime during the holiday break I declared the day of painting the wall was at hand and got to it. Almost like magic, while I was on the stepladder (Dad’s stepladder) painting, my phone rang and it was the furniture store calling to set up delivery for 12/31. Yep – the new furniture was delivered on New Year’s Eve. Crazy. I finished painting, cleaned the room up pretty well, and then the hubs and I moved the adjustable frame and mattress to the opposite wall, as I wanted the room to be laid out differently with the new furniture.

The new furniture was delivered, set up, and voila…it was done. Time to move in. Except, I really didn’t want to. Any time I have something that I don’t want to do…a task that seems too monumental that I am paralyzed to even start…I remind myself of the following:

How do you eat an elephant? ONE bite at a time.

Time to start eating the elephant that is “moving back to the master suite”. My first step was once the furniture was all in place I headed to Home Goods and got some new window treatments, bedding, throw pillows, throw blanket, etc. Once I got that all put together I realized I needed lamps for the nightstands. Back to Home Goods and home with the new lamps. I looked around and surveyed my work, feeling pleased with the results. My work here was done…but it was not. The room was ready, but our stuff was still upstairs. Some days the “bite” I could manage was a single trip with hanging clothes. Other days I made trip after trip, hauling stuff, sorting through donate/keep/trash, and putting things away like a fiend. Some days you’re really hungry and can take bite after bite after bite…some days a single bite feels like it will choke you.

The moving back in has been hard, but even harder for me has been actually sleeping in the room. I’m not even sure how to put this into words – this difficulty. I’m not creeped out by it being the room that Dad died in. Hell, I sleep on the side of the mattress that he was on when he died. That’s not it. For days I’ve wondered why I have such a hard time sleeping in this beautiful room, and today it occurred to me…

Moving IN does not equal moving ON.

Moving back into the master suite does not erase Dad’s presence – from my home or from my life. Moving in does not diminish what happened in this room. And when I think of what happened in this room, I can think of it in many ways – but the version that I CHOOSE to think of is the beauty of a man who lived a long life…the beauty of being surrounded by the voices, the tender touches, and the sounds of loved people and music. I think of the beauty of LOVE and LIFE. The room held much more life than it did death, even in the hour of his passing. Honestly, even after he passed, the room continued to hold more life and love than it did death, even as the hospice nurse and I bathed and dressed him to prepare him for his final departure from our home.

Moving IN does not equal moving ON. I don’t think we ever “move on” from life changing moments. We take so much of those moments with us…those moments become part of our body chemistry, part of our DNA, part of our soul. Those moments help to define our responses to future challenges and choices. Those life changing moments become part of who and what we are. Moving IN doesn’t equal moving ON. Every time I walk into the room it feels a bit more “our” space again. I like the simplicity of the room, and hope we can keep that up (it was packed with stuff before). This is just another step in the process, and while I know the process continues, I’m happy that we have at least started eating the “moving back in” elephant. Every day I make sure I take at least one bite. This may involve bringing another basket of stuff in and putting those items away, or it may involve many trips. Either way, it’s happening…one bite at a time.