I started out like a hurricane. Tearing through drawers of sheets and blankets without looking or thinking or feeling. Just placing them in boxes quickly, numbly. But once I got to her clothes, her bedding, the mobile that I made for her, I couldn't pretend that I wasn't doing what I was doing anymore. The emotions became overwhelming and I am proud to say I paused and gave myself time to let the grief wash over me. I allowed myself to feel what I was feeling in the moment instead of shoving it down. I let myself be sad, be shocked, be angry as hell at her loss. I let myself rage because it is still just so hard and so sad and so ridiculously unfair that we lost her. These are her things! Bought with love and put together with plans for the future. For her future! And it still seems unbelievable that future will never come. How is that even possible? I still don't understand.
I wasn't ready to let go. Hannah's room is still the one place that I can sit in and feel her. It smells like she did, all sweet baby scent mixed with hospital. She never set foot in that room, but somehow it was her, like her very soul permeated the entire room. But I noticed a few weeks ago the scent was gone. I didn't want to think about it or face it. I know it was a sign for her that we need to prepare that space for her little brother. I know it was her way of telling me it was time. But I wasn't ready. The truth is though, I will never be ready. There is no such thing as being ready when it comes to packing your child's belongings away. It's not something any parent should ever, ever do. So I jumped in and just did it.
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