We managed to move, which is crazy. It feels like we're on a little vacation. (I'm sure that's what the cat and dog hope.)
We are staying at a friend's 2 bedroom condo in Belltown, which is a near the Sculpture Park and Space Needle, Pike Place Market, etc. It was available and they are giving us a super good deal on rent. We are on the twelfth floor, with a stunning view of the water, sunsets etc. There is a roof top terrace with shared grills, exercise room, concierge... It is not our style, but we wanted something different and it is very nice. We will be here between 3-12 months, probably looking to move around the New Year.
We have a lot of friends in Seattle and it has been nice to get together with them more easily. Tony has a fifteen minute walk to work, and can still work at home twice a week, and Jaal and I have been able to go to some of his weekday gigs in the park. Jaal started a summer internship with the WTA (Washington Trails Association) today. It is a great organization. He is a communications intern, doing a variety of things- 3 days a week. He goes back to Evergreen mid September.
We ended up storing our little trailer and kayaks at our friends/neighbors in Woolley, so we plan to get up there to hike and visit. Renting our house was easy and I think we have good renters.
The cat and dog are doing fine with the transition, and I feel that we are settling in. Today is the first time I took a breather from the transition, unpacking, other stuff. I should be starting part time work in September- teacher and principal training on highly effective instruction.
So, that is the logistics for now. The actual move went pretty smoothly. We had help with the final cleaning and packing and with unloading here in Seattle. Jaal and I had been steadily packing for a few weeks, the worst part being the sorting and decisions. The build up to the move was as difficult as expected. The final day we completed the cleaning, and then took some time to just say goodbye to the house, crying on the floor style. But, the timing was pushing us, so we got ourselves together and caravanned down to the big city, Jaal driving the truck, of course. Besides my near hyperventilation and crying during the drive, I think it went well. I usually cry while driving alone, but it had anxiety combined with the shock and sadness.
The last week in our house was so busy, with a move deadline looming, that I didn't really take the time to really think about what we were doing, as I had the first couple weeks. The first two weeks of packing I was just bathing in missing Lev and in memories of us as a happy family. But the last week I felt myself losing the connection a bit due to my dedication to get it done. I can kind of feel things building up, stored in the back of my head, for me to deal with when I have the time and space. I seem to be very good at blocking and just moving on, but then I do need to eventually come back to the emotions and come to some sort of understanding, or it just eats at me as it is beginning to. I decided to journal today, hoping that would help to center me, maybe documenting some of the hardest things will make me not have to keep it catalogued in the back of my mind so prominently.
We had a garage sale the last weekend in our house (a week before the move) and had to be pretty packed and sorted by that point. On Lev's birthday I packed and sorted most of his things in his room. I mailed some items to friends, or saved some in boxes to give to the people I thought Lev would want me to. It sort of felt like helping Lev is some way. He loved to give his stuff away. We gave some things that were Melissa's back to her, Lev's xBox and some books and stuff to Kalyn, his remote control dinosaur and some toys to Monte and Laura's son, a knife that Zay had given him we sent back to him with a hat and some other stuff; sent a cane with a hidden sword in it to Charlene, put a box of stuff together for Grady, swords to Roger, gave some things to people when they came over, and saved some things for people when they visit. I then put some things in a trunk to bring here with us, and a trunk, a suitcase, and a box of things to put in storage. At the time, putting his things in the trunk or suitcase wasn't as hard as I thought it would be because I felt like I was saving things so that if/when (I get confused sometimes) he comes back, I will have some things for him, so he won't get mad at me about giving it away. That was how Z made the decisions: what would be important to him and what is important to me. Then, there were some things that I decided I was okay giving away or going in the garage sale, only to decide the next day that I wasn't ready to part with it, or Tony wanted something that I was ready to part with at the moment.
How do you boil down someone's life to just their possessions? How do you decide what is important, what will be important later?
Some things were just obvious- his favorite hats, the funny arm glove he made out of duct tape, his writings, his machete, some books, a homemade sword, his pedometer. Things that have such a story behind them they take your breath away go directly in the trunk without hesitation.
We stuffed his life-size wresting guy in a bag with a blanket and put it in storage with his heavy bag. It felt really wrong to stick the guy in a bag, like we were suffocating him, but I couldn't part with it. I put Lev's winter coat in the give away pile, but had to take it out. Tony rescued some wrestling memorabilia from the garage sale, and I am still traumatized by my throwing away his inhaler, and then rescuing it from the garbage to put inn the trunk.
(He developed a mild pet allergy to some pets last year, and we got him an inhaler for his trip to Ben's house) It has 212 remaining uses that Lev will never use. I am haunted by the inhaler, as it represents the fact that he will not return. I'm not sure how I threw it out when I found it in the upstairs bathroom, but it was a rash decision that was easily undone the next day.
I did give away some of his shoes, and boffing weapons, while saving others. We sold his bed and bookshelf - moving them downstairs was not easy, as I had to fully admit he was not returning. I know that seems stupid to people who haven't experienced a real loss, but the other day when searching on my phone for a number an old text to Lev came up, and I was so relieved for half a second that Lev had contacted me. I felt a surge of relief, like the world was indeed put together correctly, and then the next second, the crushing defeat of this reality sinking back in. That happened a lot in our house, with all the triggers. The confusion hasn't happened as much this week here. I am sad and distressed that Lev will never see this apartment, that he won't eat the delicious grapes we have in the fridge that we will not grow any older, letting his mustache fully come in, but I am not quite as confused as I have been really distracted since moving and getting settled, which was maybe a bit of a break that I needed.
We brought his desk and chair with us to Seattle, and we are using them as a part of life. We carefully packed his altar and found a place for it here. I have been using his deodorant and the shampoo he had in his bathroom kit from when we went to the gym together before school. I like having these predictable reminders, that bring me closer to him. It's the surprises that are harder, as if the ground suddenly became mush. I am still awaiting a cataclysmic event, as it would make more sense than just us being struck by lightning as we have been.
We are trying to live life as best we can, as we tried to do before. I appreciate the view, and a sunny day. I appreciate cloudy days, too. I love a good piece of fruit, walking the dog, reading a book. But it is all so awful without Lev. He will never get to do these things. It is horribly unfair. He deserved much more. I miss him and yearn for his return.
I'm not sure what else to do but to just live each day, and if I can find something that will give me a bit of peace or happiness, I'll do it. Jaal keeps baking, so we will be fappy (fat and happy). I read grief books, I read novels.
Nothing makes it better. Nothing makes it worse.
I just keep breathing and try to find a little bit of peace. I want to be happy, just at peace. I don't think I'll get there for quite a few years, but I experience moments of it, along with a moment of humor, of joy, of anguish, of longing and distress.
Rebecca
