Well, the move is done. I am spun. I knew it would be difficult and sad. On moving day things were so crazy and the ever watchful eye of my parents huddled over me, so, to save them, I held my composure. Since moving day, I've been so busy starting the process of settling, while still working 10 hour days and literally falling into bed only to read until I dozed off, that I have not allowed myself the emotional release I have waiting at the gate, until today. I had to return to the Ranch to leave some things for my Dad and to collect some of my own. He was not there, no one was, not even a spirit. I shuddered as I walked in through the garage door as I did so many days before, even in the days when Mom J was there, knowing the landscape of her dining nook and living room had changed dramatically. The tears began and they fell, undaunted by my will not to cry, literally pouring down my cheeks, spilling on my jacket and the floor. I walked through the house, still crying, looking in each room, recognition of all the things my Dad moved in and recognition of my heart, still mourning my Grandmother, even now, so far away from her departure, pulled on the tears. The mixture of his things and her memory just felt like a betrayal. I don't know how else to describe it. My Grandmother did not want my Dad to have her house, but, My Mother beleived that him owning it, not losing it, was the lesser of two evils. I am conflicted by my loyalty to my Grandmother and my desire to some day own the house myself. These things all play into my muddle of emotions. Family loyalties are tricky, even ones that are not coupled with any truly bad feelings between family members, they sometimes are even harder to sort out because there is no clearly defined betrayal. I've been trying to work this out in my head and my heart for many months now, knowing this day would come. I have not come to terms with it and am going to find it hard to settle in where I am and still go out to the Ranch to visit my Father. As I write this, I know I need to find a way to let go, to give myself the necessary grieving time for the 'loss' of my home, to love myself enough to say, "It's okay to cry, to feel, to live with what you're feeling and to honor your heart". More grief, more growing, more pain, all a part of really living. So, for this moment, I choose to look forward instead of behind......because really living is what I want to do.
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