Stinks of apple cinnamon.
I have been working on the bedroom that would have been officially Marcellus's. However since we were going to use a co-sleeper we were not going to be using this room as an official nursery until he got a lil older. Well he is not actively participating in living at the moment so we have to decide what to do with the room. What we really had to do was figure his stuff out.
Since Marcellus came early we accumulated a ton of stuff very quickly. A phenomenon called 'have a baby, get a ton of shit.' With him being in the NICU his short but eventful life we just piled off his stuff in the room willy-nilly. After he died and we came back from Minnesota the room became a huge trigger. My wife could not walk in there without having a full blown panic attack. I could not take more than a couple minutes in there before I started sobbing like a schoolgirl. But we kind of needed the room, with us both going to school in the Spring we would need the space to distance ourselves. Our place is big downstairs but open. I also needed a zen area, a retreat. We do not have a garage for that purpose. That meant taking care of his stuff.
If the water is cold you just jump in and get it over with. Thats what I did. I just jumped in, dealt with the shock and did it. It hurt, I cried, I threw things. I broke down over a bib, a stuffed animal that plays a lullaby as you tug its tail, outfits we bought him, blankets purchased by his Grandfather. Finally after dragging myself along I completed the task. I made a Marcellus drawer in the antique dresser that houses the stuff we will never get rid of or let the other children (God willing) use. I then packed up the stuff that had no direct association with my beautiful Son to be hopefully unpacked with joy and set up for use in the future.
It was hard to see all of his stuff in the closet. He will never use it. It is just gathering dust, waiting for its turn to do its duty. Sometimes I want to set it all up, to put the car seat in the car, take the stroller outside and go for a walk and see how it feels to be like everyone else in that other world out there. Other times I want to set everything up and take a baseball bat to it in a fit of glorious rage. But I do not dare unpack it in fear I will never put it back. Grief has a way of making you hang on to dreams longer than you care to wish.
I have cleaned up the papers and the mess, bought a filing cabinet and started to declutter. I found an apple cinnamon holiday yankee candle that I lit as I sit in the executive chair drinking my herbal tea. I have my youtube playing my Marcellus song list and the dog is laying in a makeshift bed on the floor. I need to set up some pictures so I can look at him as I work. I want to put up the one of his mommy holding him and smiling at me with such happiness that makes my heart melt. There is still work to do up here, and I may never finish, I just wanted to be in the room he should be in. I want to be able to pause and reflect on him, to appreciate the time I did have him and lament the long time I do not. The meditation room is not a healing space, it is a coping device, a way to help me travel through this grief. God I miss him so much.
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