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My move from old house to new house is about 93% complete - all the furniture, all my wife's clothes and possessions, all our rafting gear, my music and computer stuff, all the kitchen stuff. I have pictures still on the wall and some odds and ends left at the old place; I'll probably meet my midnight Saturday night deadline, just barely.
The move has taken me 12 days thus far in my exhausted '97 Dodge Dakota - 35 trips or more. My headlights are failing and my front end is grinding.
I still have a trailer and two other vehicles (one with a $950 repair bill waiting) to deal with. And a ton of patio furniture.
Today, I went down to her office, which has been rented to someone else starting Saturday. It's a beautiful space, overlooking the green slopes of the Front Range foothills. I took down her favorite print - a Mangelson photo of two 'dancing' polar bears - and disconnected her computer and salvaged a handful of little stuffed bears, mostly from flower deliveries I had sent her over the years. Postcards from Prague that her parents had mailed her, their greetings in scribbled Czech. A flower vase with a little note "Thanks for a great trip", something I sent her after one of our weeklong raft trips, years ago. I don't remember which one, because they were ALL great trips.
Twelve days of taking down pictures, packing her beautiful clothes, stuffing 30 year old pictures of her as a teenager into boxes, throwing out dead flowers...I just fell exhausted into one of her office chairs and fell apart.
Moving - not done yet. But emotionally, spiritually, psychically, I'm absolutely done.
When the dust settles and the boxes are unpacked and I'm 'living' in my new place, it will hit me. I can feel it coming, it's close now.
The best thing that ever happened to me is over, my wife and best friend is gone forever. I'm finished.
Thx for listening.
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