3:30am.  It seems to be my time.  When things in life get going, I find myself awake at 3:30am.  And here I am.

Because things in life are going now.  We’ve told people about our plans to move.  We received sad words from our friends in Portland, and happy words from our friends in Fresno.  Joseph has beat me up several more times.  The move seems real now.

So how do you move?  How do you move, when you are a family of four with multiple diagnoses and more expertise in solving existential crises than financial or housing issues?

The answer:  very carefully.  And start with giving away or throwing away everything that can possibly be given away or thrown away.  Simplify, simplify, simplify.  Because the less stuff we have, the less we have to pack and lug and transport and lug and unpack.  Start with the easy stuff, like throwing out the half empty bag of mouse food under the kitchen sink (the mouse died a year ago).  Move on to the more difficult decisions.  What about the kitchen items in the cabinet above the refrigerator, the things we haven’t used since we put them in that cabinet six years ago (Silas is nervous now.  He’s very attached at all the kitchen items).  Or the 20 board games that the boys haven’t played in six years (Okay okay.  I won’t give those away).  If it were up to me, maybe I’d just keep the violin, the guitar and the piano, and hold an estate sale to get rid of everything else.  I suppose I have an almost clinical desire to not own anything.  I might actually experience a feeling of release if we lost everything in a natural disaster or something like that (as long as we had been able to save the violin at least!).

Aside from managing the physical issues of moving, there are the emotions too manage as well.  That’s the harder part.  Now begins the balancing act of maintaining routine and tranquility while everything is in flux.  I can’t, for instance, wake up at 3:30am every morning.  That would kill me.  So I’ll have to manage myself somehow.  And Joseph can’t remain in denial indefinitely.  We will have to help him ease his way into acceptance and maybe even anticipation.  Very carefully.  Hopefully without any more holes in doors or walls or things.

Meanwhile, I’m going to play guitar at church this morning for the prelude.  It’s my debut on the guitar.  We’ll see how that goes.  I’m a little nervous.  I’ll bring some piano music along, just in case I freak out.


4 thoughts on “3:30am

  1. I’m catching up on your blog this morning, and keep you all in my heart as we anticipate your return to Fresno! Bless you for sharing the ruckus and pain and glimmer of hope. Over here we have Louis in hospice care, although not imminent departure, I think. He remains at the Home where he receives loving care, and he has almost normal days, others where he refuses to eat, and he is alert enough to know us and occasionally speak a few words. And–he had an angel visitation when I was with him, and he sang with them for about ten minutes. It was amazing. Thought you should know. Arms around you all. Jean

    1. Thanks for your note, Jean! We hadn’t heard a recent update on Louis, so I am glad to know and we will keep you in our thoughts and prayers. We’ll be in Fresno from Dec. 22-26, and I hope we will see you!

    1. Interesting question–I played stuff that I figured out how to play, just experimenting with how to play a guitar. I discovered I could play “Of the Father’s Love Begotten” because the highest string on the guitar is an E, like violin, so it felt really familiar to pick out that melody. Anyway, I still don’t really know how to play guitar. I’ll have to work on it.

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