Relocation Doesn’t Equal A New Start in Life

Moved to a new house in the same city I live in. Not quite sure how I feel about it.
The house is lovely as the neighborhood is.

Guess what happens when you leave the house your Daughter grew up in and died in to move to a new house. Nothing.
It is in my humble opinion that what one thinks may be a solution to suffering may not be all it is cracked up to be.

There is an environment of chaos. Self inflicted. Boxes, gear adrift that have not been touched in two weeks.

Packing up her room and all the random places we find reminders of her was hard.

Unpacking it and finding a place to put treasures and relinquish the remainder to some dark corner in the basement or closet is not working for me in my head.

I had so much help getting this move done. My children and their friends and significant other. My dearest friends Wendy and Tony (who are in the same club of Child Loss) were amazing in all things moving wise. Right down to the lunch they brought for the whole crew.

My best advice is if you don’t know what to do, do nothing. God will lead the way when you are ready to hear.

Today I will unpack one box of hers and clear off the fucking congestion I have been tripping on for the last two weeks.

The pain of being a Mother with a dead child never goes away. It doesn’t matter where you go. Your soul is branded until the day you die. It sucks to have to visit your kid at a cemetery and frankly I am still pissed off at God.

How can I get to Heaven to be with her if I curse his name daily? Haven’t figured out that part either. I guess today I just don’t care.