Friday, January 15, 2010

How many tears can the body produce?

It's the 24-hour countdown.  As I type this Abby is having breakfast with her dad and then will be going to say goodbye to her sister, nieces and nephew.  One of the many goodbyes she's been saying recently, but this will be a hard one.   The tears will flow and even though the kids won't really understand why, they will cry too because everyone else is.

Her bags are packed, ready and waiting.  I am waiting but not ready.

I stood in her bedroom inhaling her perfume and absorbing aura of the room, hoping that when I walk into it again, walk into a room empty of all the things that have filled it for the past two weeks, it will be less painful.  But really, I know that I will be crying when I pull off the sheets, crying when I vacuum the floor, crying as I dust the windowsills, because I am crying as I type this.

There are piles of stuff all over the house that Abby wants us to store or donate or keep, depending upon what it is.  Life before and since Christmas has been busy and chaotic and fun which meant that the piles that I should have looked through just got moved from one spot to another as the need for space arose.  I am hoping that I will be able to distract myself once we come home from the airport by finally sorting through, putting away, donating, getting rid of all those piles.  What am I thinking?  How is looking through things Abby had to decide she could not bring with her, but are/were part of her life going to distract me?  Duh.

I thought I could write a light-hearted post about this whole last day thing but it turns out I can't.  I'm sad and I don't care who knows it.  But I know a week from today, or maybe even a couple of days from now I'll be better.  I know that I have it easy.  Staying in contact is so much easier and instantaneous than when I moved away and long-distance phone calls were expensive and a luxury and a hand-written letter once a week was the best way to keep in touch.  I know that when Abby walks through the airport to the waiting arms of Jorge she will be fine.  It doesn't matter where you are.  It matters who you are with.  And even if we aren't together physically, we are together in our hearts........and on Skype........and e-mail................and phone calls with cheap (cheap being a relative term) international phone cards. 

I promise the next post will be happy.....ier..........not totally sad...........less sad.......................or maybe the post after that........................◦


Anonymous said...

Hang in there hon - its sooo hard but - it will get better - a little - a day at a time. You have been in my thoughts the last two weeks -- I know this pain. You can do it - hug Leslie and the grandbabies and the cat and the dog and
Dean (hmm wonder why I put him last?). You ARE loved!!!

Al said...

Oh, Cathy. I wish I had some deep thought for you, or something lighthearted to make you laugh. I don't. Instead I'll just tell you to hang in there.

NHRA said...

We are thinking about all of the Stillwell family...

abby rose said...

Thanks for making me cry too, many days after this post. But now, I have internet, finally! And we will talk, and it will be just like I am still in Lincoln, except instead of winter coats/gloves/hats I'll be wearing shorts and tank tops, and instead of hearing cars in the background, you'll be hearing birds. I love you.