A Stage of Grief

I began this Blog to record a new venture in Life: the purchase of my family home, the restoration of that house, the observation of a garden. I did not expect that so much would unsettle my dreams... our plans so soon.  Is it foolish of me to imagine I can soldier blithely on, without feeling some grief in the business of moving forward?  It has been hard to return to work in the Skudder House. I was working in an upstairs room - the one with the big crack  (Cracked 4 Nov 2010)  - when Elwin died outside.  Since then, although I have been able to be in the house; show friends around and feel inspired by their interest, I have not been able to bring myself to return to work in there. Until this weekend. But today has taken its toll and I write about it now because it is part of the Story, whether I want it to be or not.  One more room to empty: Easy, I have thought every time I glanced in there, room to move, not packed tightly to shoulder level as the room below had been.  I put aside this evening to work, but had forgotten how draining it is to inch through boxes of memoribilia mixed with mouse and rat nests.  And because this was my room in early adulthood, some of the memoribilia is mine.  After twenty minutes I realised I was sighing - just as I did for days after Elwin died.  Stress; but I'd not experienced this involuntary sighing before then.  Tearfulness too at the overwhelming task, and the realisation that Elwin is no longer around to have a little moan to.  He always had some words of support or praise for the progress I was making, when I appeared wrapped against the dust in my father's kaffiyeh and needing a cup of tea.  So today for me, a little indication that the road ahead, quite apart from engineer's reports and earthquake strengthening, will continue to be emotionally rocky, maybe forever.