It suddenly hit me today...everyone I left. When you first move into a place...you are so busy unpacking that you don't really thing about what you have done. But, then you start unpacking a box full of memories and it floods into you. And all of a sudden you can't breathe because of the heart ache as those memories assault you. The tears start to fall then and the onslaught leaves you weak, and worn out. Crawling back into bed seems like a good idea, but you realize that won't accomplish anything.
All around you are memories; pictures, sounds, smells. You find a stuffed dog that belonged to your best friends daughter and for a moment you wonder how it got in there, and then all you can do is hold onto that stuffed animal and cry into its fur.
The more you unpack, the more your place begins to take shape, the further you go from the life you left behind. You realize that some of those people you may never see again and that starts new tears to course down your cheeks. You question your decision to leave. But common sense pokes through. You understand that leaving was the best thing for you as much as it hurts.
As the day dawns, its as if you are reborn. You use the tears to drive your finishing of your new place. Each picture placed is a memory that you look back on with fondness. And if a tear slips through, it is a just a reminder of the love that you have for those you left behind. Because of that love you can move on to the next day, and the next day. And you pray that one day you can see everyone again.