Gone

I called my mum late last night.

“Well, the stuff is gone”.

And there are oh so many things I could say.

Perhaps, I will say this. My mother told me she was watching a documentary on the Queen, looking at her clock and knowing it was 8, and the people would be coming to pick up Gabriel’s things.

The Queen calls her family the firm. And you can say a great many things about the monarchy and about Her Majesty, and a great many more things are said every day. HRH knows a great deal about a great many things. Perhaps, most, she knows about duty and obligation. She knows about doing the right thing when you are tired, when it is inconvenient, when you just don’t want to.

I didn’t want money for Gabriel’s things. Hopes and dreams may have a cost, but you can’t calculate a value for them. It would have been easy to just throw them out. It still wouldn’t have been right. Right was to offer them to someone who could use them, even knowing that it was going to be hard to do this. Right is not to waste.

I will not lie. I wept more yesterday than I have in a very long time. I wept when, in spite of my better judgment, I watched that truck drive off. It hurt like a son of a bitch. It hurt like I can’t even describe.

And at the end of it, my mother’s voice on the phone.

“I know it hurt Cheryl-Nancy. I know it had a cost, and I know that you and Owen are the only ones who feel the cost. I know you did the right thing because that’s what I have always taught you, and that’s what you do. I’m sorry, I wish I could make this hurt less. Sometimes, munchkin, duty hurts. Sometimes it hurts a lot.”

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21 Responses to Gone

  1. a says:

    Your mom is a wise woman.

    (You may also feel a little lighter in a short time – sometimes things weigh us down)

  2. brown owl says:

    No words, just lots of love and hugs.

  3. Maureen says:

    I’m sorry. (((hugs))) and prayers.

  4. debby says:

    Mrs. Spit. I checked in to see if the pick up had been done. I knew that it would be so very difficult. You made me cry in a computer lab surrounded by a load of students.

    It is hard. So very hard. But you did the right thing. I know that knowing you did the right thing doesn’t make it any easier.

    I’m can only grieve for you.

    I did not know that your mom was HRH The Queen.

  5. Jayme says:

    Thinking of you

  6. Sarah says:

    Peace be with you.
    I wish I could make the hurt less too.

  7. Erica says:

    Thinking of you, and wishing I could pour you a stiff drink of your choice, or make you a cup of tea.

    I’m so glad for your mom, her recognition and her words.

  8. loribeth says:

    I was wondering how it went. :( I’m sure whatever you did with Gabriel’s things, it would not have been easy. There is no easy option in this situation.

    I am glad your mother recognized how hard this was for you. (((hugs)))

  9. Michele says:

    Your mom sounds like mine… Wise women indeed.
    Sending hugs and love. The right thing is so often the hardest- and most heart wrenching.

  10. Jacinta says:

    Oh Mrs Spit, I’ve got nothing wiser than your mother. I think she is right. I hope you feel lighter later on for having done something hard

  11. Jane in London says:

    {{{hugs}}}

  12. linds says:

    Just letting you know I’m thinking of you.

  13. Carmen says:

    Love, hugs, and strength to you & Mr. Spit. My heart aches for you.

  14. Jamie says:

    Those were good words from your mother.

    I wish that I could think of something perfect to say but words fail me. Know that I am thinking of you and sending you much love.

    Also, I knew you’d be disappointed in my shoe collection. But I’m going to make it up to you!!

  15. Sorry, Cheryl, it hurts like a he11 and the right thing is often the most difficult. <3 to you and Owen on missing your son.

  16. Virginia says:

    Thinking of you…

  17. Sue says:

    I’m so glad you have such a supportive and loving mother.

    One small saving grace f0r us is that we hadn’t yet begun to put together a nursery. I can only imagine what it was like to watch those things you chose so lovingly for your sweet boy as they were driven out of sight.

    Abiding with you.

  18. Kristin says:

    Abiding with you and wishing I could ease the pain.

  19. Heather says:

    I knew what this post was just by looking at that sad little picture. I ache for you and what the horrid moment must’ve been like watching that truck drive off. Here I am, 2 years 3 weeks and 6 days later…and I still hoard every little thing I ever had for Logan. Although I recently gave my brother the car seat we had from our first child, knowing it would be out dated before our third one…if there ever was a third one…but it was like giving a lung, or a part of my heart. I can not imagine watching a truck pull away carrying all of the stuff…and the hopes and dreams they were attached to.

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