Yesterday, I walked into an opshop looking for clothes and the first thing I saw was a picture of a ballerina. And it almost brought me to my knees... I had to walk out of the opshop and go and sit in my car and cry. For what seemed like hours, I cried and cried.
I have grieved the loss of those I love. Many, many times over. I have grieved the loss of my unborn child. I have grieved deeply the death of my beloved pets.
And now, I grieve the loss of everything I held dear, everything that shaped me and my life, that defined moments in my history... They're all gone.
I miss my clothes, my shoes, my personal things. I spent decades finding my eclectic and beautiful coats and dresses, shoes and bags. They were my pretties, my beautiful things.
I miss my trinkets, my knick-knacks, my small and broken bits that I gathered over the many years since the last fire destroyed my life. I miss my fabulous and delicious collection of art nouveau and art deco glass, my teapots, my gorgeous crystal bowls. I miss the funny little ceramic animals. I miss the 400 year old greek pottery vessel I found in a garage sale for 50 cents. These things had meaning to me. They were part of my life. I would pick them up and I would remember where I had been when I found them, how I felt, who was with me. I would remember who I was.
I can't do that anymore.
I grieve the loss of my artwork. I grieve the loss of the Triple Goddess, my signature painting. I grieve the loss all my friends paintings. I spent thirty years building up the most beautiful art collection and it's all gone. And it is ALL totally irreplacable. You cannot put a monetary value on a work of art because it is the only one like it in all of creation. And they are all gone. I managed to save my Alpacas and a few other works that were behind glass, but they are heavily smoke damaged and I haven't the heart to take them to a framer so they can be sealed behind glass again. They're all gone.
There's nothing left.
I started unpacking the few boxes I brought with me from the old house only to find that what was in them was too badly damaged. I don't know what I was thinking when I lovingly packed them up to bring them here. I probably wasn't thinking, I was probably operating on auto pilot. I've been doing a lot of that for the past four months...
As I was going through stuff, either binning it or placing it in a small box for the opshop, I realised that this time, I couldn't bring anything of my past with me for this last part of my journey. I grieve that loss. My history has been wiped out for the second time in my life and while I am aware of the gift of a blank canvas, I grieve the loss of my richly painted and patterned old one.
Life goes on. I still breathe.
But it's time to grieve.