Sponsored – Moving – Kekmama

The sun shines in through the wide open attic window. Slowly some fresh air is spreading through this floor of my house again. Dust sticks to my bare feet. I take a deep breath and open one of the boxes.

I’m moving. I leave the house where I lived with S. for years. The nice house where I continued to live after his death. The place where I was forced to try to reshape my life, around the lack and loss. Where I put new lines on a new, blank drawing sheet by trial and error, because the drawing I had colored with S. for 10 years suddenly ceased to exist. Just before I turn 30, I leave for another village to move in with J.: my second great love.

Behind this knee shot are S.’s things. Never before have I seen a reason to go through it. Head in the sand? Who knows may say. I’ve been frustrating myself for the past few weeks: Why am I letting sifting through these things now coincide with the reason for moving? Couldn’t I have gone through this stuff sooner? As if living with J. gives the impression that I no longer attach any value to S.’s things? It’s anything but that! J. says understandingly: “You don’t have to get rid of anything, do you. Even if you take everything with you! Also fine.” But yes, moving everything blindly doesn’t feel good either. My motto: “don’t go around it, go through it” is more relevant than ever. I feel the need to practice what I preach.

A smile appears on my face when I leaf through stuff from S.’s childhood: a friend’s book and a notebook from primary school (“Today we went to a performance. I didn’t like it”). I come across the big Zigzag jar (90’s kids? Yvon Jaspers, remember?). A photo of how S. was proudly taken on the shoulders as a group of 8 after conquering the win. I feel a lump in my throat at the sight of that happy, adored little fellow.

I’m not done yet, but at least I got an overview. Somewhat relieved I rinse the dust off me in the shower. My body only responds to this clearing session a day later and I experience once again that emotions can come out of your toes. The loss, love and mourning have been touched again. They belong to take it one step further. A step that is getting closer.

If S. had still lived, I would never have lived in this nice house for so long. After all, we would have moved on to another house together, a new chapter to build on. ‘You’re still so young, you have to get on with your life’, I hate well-known and directive comments like this. Still, I can’t ignore the fact that now, after three years, I’m literally moving on. Nota bene to a house that did not even exist when S. died. It is indicative of how the world continues and changes without him. I find that bizarre and confrontational. And yet: despite the emotion, I already feel that this closure also gives peace. My stuff is getting a new place. Carefully selected stuff from S. too. Sometimes clearly and in plain sight, sometimes more subtly present or out of sight. In another house where the sun also shines in through a wide open attic window.

This story is in collaboration with Monuta. On the Monuta site you can, in addition to taking out insurance, find a lot of information and tips about loss, life and mourning.

I read this article that also refers to cleaning up things when you lost your loved one when you were young.

Do you want to read more about me(a story)? Check out @widowchicks and @mariekevanlierop