John just drove away from here for the last time.
Friday, he filled up the kindling box and organized the firewood to his satisfaction. (Yes, it has been cold enough in the mornings to need a fire sometimes. In late June.)
Saturday, he helped my friends change out a very troublesome toilet. It was not a task for the faint of heart.
En route, he let me know he’d decided to leave this weekend, 2 weeks earlier than planned. I could have handled it worse, but it wasn’t good.
Being part of doing something as fundamentally Freudian as changing a toilet helped, though. We both were a lot better afterwards.
Sunday, he took a “recovery” day but still mowed the whole lawn, did the lion’s share of washing every stitch of clothes and linens for me, cleaned the kitchen, and vacuumed the living room.
Neither of us slept much last night, but spent hours hearing the other toss and sigh a floor away. While I was rattling around upstairs at midnight, he came up and asked for alka-seltzer. I gave him half a box for the road. (It’s part of my gluten-exposure first aid kit.)
This morning, unable to lie down past 5:40am (my feet were spasming something awful), I got up and took a shower straight away, giving him time to slip away if he wasn’t up to seeing me. He waited until I was dressed and ready, then gave me a warm hug and a warm kiss and asked for my blessings.
I carried the cat out to wave goodbye.
When I came back, there was, of course, exactly the right amount of water in the kettle for my tea.
So, this is what it looks like to let go with love.
It’s still devastating, absolutely devastating, but a lot less wracking and a lot quieter than the usual alternative.
And now, back to my regularly-scheduled programming of coping with agony, loss, DIY for gimps, too much work with too little time and capacity, appropriate depression/anxiety, and impending homelessness.
Send in the clowns!
Today’s task: get my last box into storage, retrieve my camping stuff, and assess whether I’m safe to use the table-saw I’ll need to rent to do the subflooring downstairs. Probably not a good idea. That might have to wait. At least a week.
Okay, storage it is. And work on prepping the car for camping. Because the future happens whether I’m ready or not.