This is a crazy time to be apart. There are decisions I am faced with every day that I wish Ben was facing with me. Should I get this size plastic bin or is it too big for air freight? Should we go with this moving quote or that one? Should I pack this or toss it? Should we keep the dog or not? Do we NEED this there? How about this? And this? And this?
I don’t mind making decisions on my own, but these are not just decisions… it’s the end of an era. To not have him here to talk these things through, to grieve with me, is like a weird form of torture. And the truth is… I tend to make much better decisions when I’ve got him as a sounding board.
We have amazing friends, friends who I can talk to, who GET me. But none of them are him. They have swooped in and carried us… watched my kids, made me meals, just hung out. They were on the phone with Ben non-stop when his co-pilot had to turn back. Trying to make sure he was safe moving forward. They were packing boxes. Packing the vehicle. Loaning us cars. Loaning us silverware and bowls. Giving out hugs. THOSE kinds of friends. But I still miss him, and I hate standing here, looking at a house full of bins and boxes and breakfast leftovers without him here.
Ben is blitzing his way through Zambia in order to get to the Tanzanian border by nightfall. He’s over 2,250 kilometers away and all I have to say is MOVE IT, BUDDY! MOVE IT!
Moving stinks, and my eyeballs are burning. Again.
Kristy