Its been official for over two months now, but I haven’t been able to write about it.  I’ve accepted a new job and we have to relocate. We’re moving…

We will leave this apartment that we’ve lived in for the past six years, the place which Kiran came home to when he was born, the place he left to go to the hospital when he died, the only home he knew.   I remember the first week after he died, my impulse was to leave the apartment immediately, to run away from it all, imagining that that would somehow help us cope.

I’m glad we stayed now.  Sometimes there is great comfort in just being in the space where he used to run around, to sit where we would sit and play.  Sometimes, sitting in his room, the feelings are overwhelming and I can’t stop crying until I leave.   As another grieving parent told us – there are booby traps all over the house.  And they seem to change all the time – things that trigger fond remembrances today, bring the world crashing down tomorrow.

We still have Kiran’s stuff all around us – his clothes are still in his dresser and his toys are all over the house.  A lot of his space is as he left it.  Right now I can still sit in the rocker by his bed and remember the feel of him lying on me as I used to pick him up in the mornings and we’d rock and sometimes sing as the cobwebs rolled away and he woke to take on the new day.  But now we have to prepare to pack it all up.  This configuration of space will be no more.  Maybe it should have ended earlier.  I don’t know.

Our new home will be a place where Kiran never walked, but I’ve already started to picture him running around the house there.  He’s moving too.  He will be with us always.