Yesterday, Brady and I spent a good chunk of time out in the garage. There was purging, rearranging, organizing, box flattening, and and donating involved. We didn’t in any way go through every box, but we were able to make the space WAY more useable! Spoiler alert, at the end of the day, the van drives into the garage better than it did last winter! Its still tight, but its better than ever, and I’m SO grateful for all the work put in to make it possible. Taking all of the kids to school in the morning will be so much easier without having to haul them through the snow and wind and ice in their jammies and jackets.
We found out that Jamin had passed away two full months ago now. As you can probably understand and relate to in some way, at least, time changes things. I can confidently tell you that while our losses aren’t “easier,” they’re more normal. Those boys are part of our family, and have changed my life in so many ways. Thats a post all on its own. But as I’m sure you can also imagine, there are things that trigger my pain just out of nowhere and can send me into a tailspin.
I had a pretty good cry in our garage yesterday.
We had our usually contained heap of storage stuff spread all over the garage, and were trying to put things where they fit a little bit better. Stacking boxes with boxes, and sticking the things that didn’t fit anywhere very well (ie: tonka trucks, a lap pool, hoses, chairs that don’t stack, etc) either into little spaces or all into one big pile. The big pile was growing quickly, and moving towards the garage door. It seemed fitting, since the stuff by the door would likely take the biggest hit weather-wise and dust-wise, and it was mostly outdoor stuff. It was fine, until I realized our baby cradle was in that pile.
To be fair, nothing dirty or gross was in it or anything. But it was RIGHT up against the garage door. I’m positive I’d seen it there before, unconsciously, but let me tell you. A switch flipped.
I’ll pat myself on the back here, because I didn’t completely lose it. I went over to Brady and asked if the cradle could be moved. I pointed out how it would likely get worn and dirty where it was. He agreed right away, and said he’d find a different place for it, no problem.
I should’ve just left it there, but the tears just started flowing, completely out of my control. I blubbered something about how that cradle should never have to be in the garage in the first place. It should be up in our room, beside the bed, and it should have a baby in it. Brady came over and held me while I shook and sputtered and back pedalled. He asked me if I wanted it inside somewhere, like maybe even in Solly’s room, as it has SO much empty space. But I didn’t think I could bear to see it so often. On one hand, it would be a good hopeful reminder, and on another, it would just hurt.
Brady promised to deal with it all, and he delivered. It is still in the garage, but stored totally safely, in a place where it won’t take a beating, and is easily accessible for when we finally need it again.
Crisis averted, for the moment, anyway. It’s always the little things that catch me off guard and send me reeling. I know I’m not the only one.
Yikes, little boys, how I ache for you 💙💙