I don't even know if that is a word, but I'm feeling it right now.
As many of you know David died a couple of months ago, and the last two months have been hectic, the first month sorting our the funeral, and the last Month sorting out the will etc, and slowly getting my life back to some semblance of normal. (The final "new normal"?)
One thing I did was get all the medical kit like the bed and the rotunda etc etc removed. This was good because it removed the things that reminded me of Davids illness and I felt it was getting in the way of me remembering the good times.
This left the wet room, which I love anyway, so it's staying, and the through floor lift and ceiling hoists. The hoists had only been fitted a month before he died so this didn't bother me, but yesterday they were removed, so that someone else can benefit from them, and also the through floor lift was removed, and a builder came to fill the hole, and put new floorboards and ceiling in. The lift going has affected me in a strange way.
Firstly, it was the first bit of kit put in, and probably the item which was the biggest godsend, as it meant David could still go to bed every night, and come downstairs every morning. Secondly, it was the final bit of kit to be removed, which brings a sort of closure, as I have my house back to normal, apart from a bit of decoration, and some carpet. However, seeing the lift removed was sort of the final link with David apart from his possessions which are still around, and I was surprised to find I felt quite tearful as it was being dismantled.
I don't really understand that, but it was really weird. I guess it's just another step in the grieving process, and I take good heart in that the lift will be reinstalled somewhere else, and hopefully give the, the same benefit that it gave to us for two years.
Sorry, one of those weird I need to talk about this moments... Thanks for being there everyone, you're all wonderful!