Weary

Today has been tiring. But, then again, every day has been tiring. So, that is a given.
Today begins one moving session. With luck, mom’s apartment will be cleared by Monday evening.
One less thing.

Taping boxes, I broke. I don’t want to do this anymore. Sifting through her things. Old things I haven’t seen since I was a kid. Little items sent from afar. Unexpected findings that meant something to her. Thousands of pictures. It’s a knife slowly pushing in, reminding me as I push through, “She is not here”. Only her relics. Torturous. I want to be done.

Yet, I don’t. The more I clean, the more I sift, it brings me closer to the end. Another ending. The ending of ‘going through her stuff’. Then there will be the ‘clean of her apartment’. Then the last look around with the closing of the door and the returning of the key. That leads to finishing up her other affairs. Then making my rounds of visits. Then a goodbye to her grave. Then, a departure. Everything is perishing around me, ending. It hurts so much.

How do you want to run from where you are and stay at the same time?

But, I believe in cycles. Everything is cyclical. So, with endings, there are beginnings. The endings now are sure, definite, no going back. But, the beginnings? They are mysterious and foreign boxes to wrapped in huge questions marks. I hope to find some solace soon. I'd settle for sleeping for three weeks straight.