With 6 days to go until we move, it's a bit busy here, and the stacks of boxes are getting tall. Our many bookshelves are empty EXCEPT for Matthew's shelf.
On his urn are: his tiny urn in a velvet, heart-shaped box; his memory box from the hospital; his teddy bear; a small framed picture of him; a large framed picture of him; a note Ben wrote to comfort me; a cross Ben asked me to buy for him; and his death certificate.
I can't pack those things. The idea of any of Matthew's things in a box just makes me want to throw up. It's almost as if those items, those few, sad things, are alive to me. I wouldn't put a puppy or a living child in a box, and I just can't put anything of Matthew's in a box. Does that seem weird?
Dh and I are glad to be out of this lease, but I'm conflicted about leaving. I was here when we learned I was pregnant with Matthew. I was here for the time I carried him. I was here the night my water broke and I knew he would die; this house was the last place (except for the hospital) where his heart was beating, the last place I was excited and hopeful and looking forward to his birth. Leaving here is a way of leaving behind my precious few memories of Matthew. And I'm sad.
I was having a panic attack today, and after I was very slightly calmer, dh gave me Matthew's urn to hold, thinking it would make me feel better, but I started sobbing as if he had just died.
Anyone KWIM?
