Location, location, location

I slept in my “new” bedroom last night. I didn’t think it would be easy-peasy but I didn’t expect it to be as emotional as it was either.

Part of it might be that the room, other than the bed, is empty, my new dressers get delivered next week, a barren room isn’t exactly cheerful or restful. But it was way worse than an empty room, it was me trying to move on (maybe before I’m ready?), I feel like I’m somehow betraying HIM by moving to a different room. It doesn’t help that I can see the stairs from the bed and I kept imagining (expecting?) HIM walking up them and saying “Why you sleeping in there Hon?” I guess that’s the biggest problem, part of me is still expecting HIM to come home.

I don’t know how to get rid of that.

Waking up is a bit better. In our room I’d wake up and it would slowly dawn on me while getting up that HE was dead, the realization comes when I open my eyes now, I think that’s for the better.

D said that once my furniture arrives and I make the room my own I’ll probably feel better, but I’m not sure about that. The new furniture is like everything else, Oliver, the washer and dryer, all things I could get excited about except they came at such a high cost.

I’d like to find things to get excited about that are unrelated/attached to HIS death, but everything seems to be related to it, or because of it, or worse, something I really want to tell him about.

I'm not lonely, good friends abound, but there’s no way to describe how much I fucking miss him.