Be gone clutter.

Chaos brings chaos.

House chaos brings brain chaos which brings schedule chaos… and eventually, in my life, a breakdown.  I must bring order from chaos to be able to pay attention to these important moments and memories and pieces of my grieving.  I always feel like I have to prepare, or nest, in order to let myself explore or feel many parts of this grief work.  To most that sounds strange or weird even.  Honestly, as I write this I think some might find me crazy.  Eh, but who cares… like I always say I do what I have to do to survive… sometimes that sounds like crazy work, sometimes it is putting it away for another time and sometimes it is jumping in all the way and letting my mind think, assess and remember Madeline… let me heart feel all the hurt… let my brain calculate all the missing it has done and let my hands not feel her hands or toes or hair.  I can not do this type of grief work in chaos.

I have been working to bring order to my house… in hopes I am sure that it will magically ‘feel’ like my home again… also to prepare for the day that I crawl into my garage attic and pull down the totes at the other end and open them.  I need order to look at Madeline’s backpack again, to sort through her clothes, to touch her water bottle… to open things I have not had the chance to since I put them there.  I need order.  I think I need the order in some way as a form of respect for the priceless and lovely items in the totes but also so my brain wrap itself around only the items and job at hand… and not be sidetracked by a pile of laundry, dishes in the sink or a dirty bathroom.  I feel like I am almost there.  I feel like there are few areas that need me to clean and organize and focus and that the important and exciting and terrifying process of doing this job will happen soon.  I wonder what I will find… I can’t remember all the outfits she loved and would wear… or what might be in her backpack pockets… is her homework in the folder?  Does her water bottle still have her marks on it?  I wish I would open that tote and get a clear and perfect whiff of Madeline.  The before smell that I can not remember… not the smell in the hospital.  I wish I would open it and have a full memory of her in an outfit that isn’t pulled from a photograph.

So for now I chug along, bringing order to my chaos… searching for a home and preparing for this important job.  For now I wonder what it will feel like…



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