Closing the Door

I'm just going to put it out there. Managing your parents' estate after their death? It sucks. 

Sorry, Mom. I know you hate that word and always got on my case for saying it, but, seriously, there is no other word to describe this one.

Last night I closed the front door on their house for the last time ever. Before doing so, I walked through every room and looked around one last time. As I closed that door, I cried harder than I have cried in months. I'm sure it was good for me. I'm sure that this being done is going to move me one more step, maybe even a leap, toward healing, toward a new normal, which I crave desperately at times and wish away at others.

Tomorrow I will hand the new owner of my parents' home the keys, and all will be done with that part of the estate. I'll walk away for the last time. I don't have to put too much imagination into how that's going to feel. 

This is a door that needs to close for my sanity. Obviously, I am losing it. Can you tell? Rational Girl knows that no one is in that house, that all their stuff is gone from there, but grief changes you even if only temporarily. I haven't seen Rational Girl since November.

We had our kids with us last night as we loaded cleaning supplies, pillows, and a few odds and ends into our van. Ava came up to me in tears after spending the evening trying to lean on her also emotional brother. She said, "I'm sorry, but I'm just so sensitive right now, and I can't help crying and being a little crabby when I feel so sensitive."

I know, Baby Girl. I know. That pretty much says it all.