400 boxes and a funeral

A door has closed.
My Mum has died.

If I write it down and say it often enough, it will help it sink in. I shouldn't really be surprised. We were all expecting it. But not even knowing it is going to happen prepares you for the numbness, shock and pain of death, when it really does happen.

I am so proud of her. She made such a gallant effort to overcome the cancer that Doctors originally said would get the better of her in six months. Her courageous battle with Multiple Myeloma had lasted over 12 years. She was so determined to beat the cancer. She got to meet her 5th Grandson, B and 1st Granddaughter, Little Miss. She walked me into the garden at my wedding, she travelled and lived every good day to her fullest enjoyment. She really did beat that nasty cancer.

Her funeral was beautiful. She would have been overwhelmed by it. There were so many people there, us kids and Dad all managed to speak and got everyone crying and laughing. (This is what I said)

I miss her so much. And am finding to very hard to face each day without her around.

But a door has opened.
We have moved house.

400 boxes, the furniture, pets, pot plants, children and adults have all been relocated. It still feels like we are on holiday in someone else's house. The new house is all the things that the old house wasn't.  New house is large where old was small, old house was really old 1890s yet renovated where the new house is 1960s un-renovated. New house had a huge garden where old house only had a deck. Old house was inner city, new house is in the suburbs. New house has a view where old house looked in on itself. It's a big change, but we are all loving it.

I particularly love the ever changing view, the space, a practical family friendly floor plan, fresh air, garden and wildlife.

We are going to have lots of good times here, I know it, even though I carry around a closed door in my heart.