During my journey in grief I can attest to the fact that transitions are more difficult than they used to be. Yet knowing this and managing this are two distinct things. The end of the school year hit me hard. Given that we were traveling the week prior, I was coming home to post vacation blues. I returned to the markers of time that close a chapter - field day, parties, teacher gifts, and ceremonies. Oliver is now a sixth grader, about to enter his final year of elementary school. On Instagram was I greeted with photos of Wavey's peers prepping for dances and celebrating that they are now high schoolers. My entire being is feeling the weight of this transition. Migraines, body aches, clumsiness, forgetfulness, insomnia, restlessness - all physical manifestations of stress. Grief is all encompassing.
I have decided to make additional changes to Waverly's room. Gone are her pink flower wall stickers. Peeled green paint remains on the walls, waiting to be covered in a simple light gray. Two twin beds await white paint in the middle of the room. My summer project is to create a second guest room. Her pink polka dot curtains will remain and her girly duvets will drape across both beds, but it will become a comfortable space for visitors. Matt recently commented that it no longer feels like her bedroom. The truth stung and my eyes responded in kind with tears.
I worry about forgetting her and I worry I focus on her too much. It is a unnatural balancing act and one that brings intense amounts of guilt. And all the while I attempt to record each moment with Oliver; not wanting to forget I make mental notes. Each day he brings reminders of his sister as he transitions.