Now all that's left, pictures on the walls

Actually not even the pictures were left at this point.

The sight of our living room as our items slowly make their way to storage

For many days, even though, I knew that technically speaking, we had no "need" of photos or art on the walls and that it would be easy to pack, I refused to do it.  Greg was gone 4th of July weekend and I was left home to do much packing.  I got a lot done but when it came to the walls, I just couldn't bring myself to strip them just yet, especially not alone.  So I dragged my feet till Sunday when Mink came over and when she asked, "Hey, what should I pack?", I thought, "Aha! I can make someone else do it-it won't effect them."  But to my surprise, she retorted, "No.  That's so sad.  Let's wait."  I, not wanting to appear as taken aback at her sentimentality as I was, just said, "Okay, let's do the refrigerator magnets instead" :)  Please note: I was not surprised by this because she's a cold-hearted stoic...no, no, but rather because I realized I wasn't crazy for refusing to strip my home of our unique giftings to the walls and the furniture.  So, perhaps it was surprise at my OWN sentimentality in the situation.  I also realized that Greg and I are not the only farewellers in this situation and that there are plenty who will endure grief as well.

Sleeping in the living room for our last night in our 1st apartment

Several times during our last few months, I began doing several things: a) taking pictures of as many friends/acquaintances/strangers as possible, b) refusing to do anything which seemed mundane and wasn't in some way a "good-bye" to Chicagoland or friends or dairy queen or the pool or the zumba dance studio and c) subduing my emotions about leaving--something akin to not counting eggs before they're hatched or awakening grief before it's necessary.  Plus, it's hard to truly miss people until we're really gone and for now, it still seemed all a far off adventure.  All of these struck me as silly and yet, in some way, were, in fact, my grief.  That, and my incessantly bothersome heartburn :P

I've had this song (from which this post's title was derived) going through my mind since we hit the road.  At first, I thought, "Boy, that's kinda morbid, better not tell anyone about it."  But, here it is, echoing in the recesses of my gut, so I share it with you.  It's by a 90s christian band with whom I was obsessed and still fondly bust out their albums from time to time, a few of you, though I suspect not many, will remember Plankeye.

Goodbye, goodbye

Walk away it's time to say goodbye

Goodbye, goodbye

Walk away it's hard to say goodbye

Now all that's left , pictures on the walls

Memories and stories that are told

The more often told the bigger they get

Create a legacy lest we forget

Goodbye, goodbye

Walk away it's time to say goodbye

No longer can i hold onto this defeated change in heart, i swear

It's time to sing "fare thee well" to life as we know it

My voice it will be, you know i will be, yes it will be still

Something woke me up in the midst of dream and fantasy

Halfway there but He always fills my cup

And He lifts me up oh how He lifts me up

Goodbye, goodbye

Walk away it's time to say goodbye

I never took the time to stop and realize that death takes many forms

Even while alive

 

I was really hoping that this CD was in the car and that we could've used it for that moment when we dropped our apt. 113 and pool key off in the office drop slot and hopped in the car to drive away for always.  (Actually, that's not entirely true-we left our bike so we're gonna have to head back, but that doesn't really make the story as good, right?)  But, I probably would have cried anyway so maybe it's better.  As it is, I just fell asleep and Greg listened to a Chicago station until it was static as we drove down I-55.

 

But, don't worry, all of the memories and stories from you all will be told, probably through giggles and tears, and they'll get longer and longer and less believable.  And your pictures will be on our walls.  And we will glory in the fact that God has asked us to "come and die" to our lives in Chicagoland.  But, we will rise from the ash as He bears us up.  And we look forward to hearing of all your Life's deaths and resurrections even as we are far away.  But, it's great to me that we were so committed and so loved and so stuck in, that leaving is worthy of being called a "death".  So, thanks be to God and to all of you as well :)  Thanks for reading what is sure to be a rather melodramatic tale.  Blessings, friends.