My parents' house sold this weekend. I'm refusing to the play the could-we-have-gotten-more game because I am so drained by everything that has happened in the last year, I've got very little fight left in me.
I got money out of a bank account I swore I'd never touch to pay for a hotel room for a couple of days, and am leaving tomorrow. Hopefully, all the papers will be signed and notarized by Friday morning, because that's when I'm leaving to be back for Briton's birthday.
I'll go through the house, and the cabinets, and the drawers, and the closets, and the attic one more time. Because even though the buyer has given me 10 days after closing to remove any and all things I want, I just don't think I could go up there again. This has got to be my goodbye trip.
If it won't fit in the car, I have to let it go. I've asked and asked and asked Briton and Hannah what they want from the house, they haven't given many answers, so if they think of something they want, it's too late.
I've walked through that house so many times in the last 11 months, I don't think another stroll will hurt me. But I did realize last night that, as of this week, I'll have no more reason to go to Nashville. Not that I can't go on the odd occasion, but my real reasons are gone. Which took me to Mama and Daddy's graves. I'm abandoning them. No one will go visit them.And I've had so many helpful talks with Daddy. . .
I've just come from therapy, and my therapist encouraged me to just feel whatever I feel, whenever it comes up. I'm pretty sure the drive back here will be awash in guilty, sad, lonely tears.