Cleaning and organizing has always been therapeutic for me. I know I’m crazy! In the past when ever I was worried about a big exam or a problem I would clean and reorganize closets. Hours later I was stress-free, had an answer to my problem, and a clean place- cannot beat that! But lately I haven't had time or energy to clean. The result? Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety, oh and irritability. It was past time to do something about it. Therefore, Dustin being the loving, wonderful, accommodating husband that he is and I spent the last three days deep cleaning our house. Now when I say deep cleaning I mean cleaning everything: walls, doors, light switches, baseboards. If it is in the house it needs to cleaned. My preferred cleaning supply? A toothbrush! It works best to get into the little crevasses. My poor husband! He thinks if stuff is put away the house is clean. Yet he indulges me. And I'm thankful for his help, even if I go behind him and reclean areas he missed.
Over the past two years our closet has become the household dump for anything that doesn't have a place. While cleaning out the closet I came across multiple bins of Tatum's old clothes. I guess it is finally time to get rid of them. Payton will never wear the closets. It is time to let go of the dream of another daughter wearing big sister's clothes. Realizing again the loss of Payton and now the loss of another living daughter wasn't expected, least of all during cleaning. I never imagined getting rid of old, too small, and some stained clothes would bring some many painful tears. Never imagined the loss I'd feel. Another unexpected trigger. Do the triggers ever stop?
Later, another realization came. I dislike dusting or anything the needs to be dusted. So the few mementos in our home are all personal and sentimental. For example the few Willow Tree statues: father holding an infant (for Tatum), angel holding a butterfly (for Payton), and mother holding her pregnant belly (for Sport). Each comes with a printed named and explanation. The given name has never meant anything to us. The meaning we associate with the statues is where the sentiment comes. So when dusting I was surprise to find the printed name for the mother holding her pregnant belly sitting next to the statue- "Cherish- Awaiting A Miracle". I guess when the statue was bought the words were meaningful to me, they are now. The words brought tears. We are 'awaiting a miracle'. Awaiting Sport's arrival. Awaiting joy.
