Sunday, 18 March 2012

Let the tears begin...

The week ahead will be my last week at work after nearly 16 years there (with a few maternity leaves in between).  The week after that we're moving further south.

Up until last week I was still convinced that this was the right thing for me; for us.  And now I'm starting to wonder.  To be honest, I think leaving this job and spending more time with the boys whilst doing some freelance work from home is the right thing for us (if we can afford the mortgage!).  But I will really miss the people.  Not my good friends; those I'll stay in touch with both virtually and really.  But there a lot of people who mean more to me than they realise - individually and collectively.  And I'll miss them.  And I'll miss the challenge of my job too (some days).

I think by Friday, I'll be a complete mess (and not just because of the cocktails I think it's highly likely I'll consume on Thursday night).  I've wobbled 3 times already in the last 2 days.

Wobble 1:
A colleague in the department left on Friday - early retirement.  He walked the floor with a hug, kiss or handshake and kind word for everyone (how I wish I could do that).  He sat at my desk and we talked about what was in store for both of us.  We talked about our upcoming house move until I could talk no more.

Wobble 2:
Husband's family here for the weekend.  As my sister-in-law was leaving yesterday, she said goodbye to the house.  And I wobbled again.   This house and all that has gone on it means the world to me.  I know it's the people and not the house but it's been a happy home (even when it has been sad) and it is the last place that Monkey was.  And however much I tell myself that he is not here; that he is with me, stuck in my heart forever.  A small part of me feels that I am leaving him behind.  I have not yet written down all my memories  like I said I would.  The memories that I can feel when I am here as I wander around the house.  And I'm running out of time (although blogging is proving a handy distraction from packing).

Wobble 3:
This morning my mother-in-law told me that when she collected Pickle from school on Friday, she stopped at the church.  To be honest, it didn't occur to me that she'd go there which is pretty rubbish of me really.  She said she thought that I was being very brave and tried to hug me.  I mumbled through my tears that 'he's not there' and pretty much ran away to sniff out and squeeze a child.

I knew that leaving work and moving away from the area a week later was going to be tough.  And I know we are doing it for the right reasons.  But boy, I'm packing the mascara tonight as I think wearing any this week may be reasonably pointless.

Wish me luck.  

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