Salvation

I said at the beginning of this transfer process that I wanted to drive to the new house because I didn't want to deal with what it would take to get Audrey and her things on a plane (her box is considered human remains and requires some paperwork to be completed in order to take her out of the state. I figured if we drove, I could avoid all that). As it turns out, and as the time draws closer for us to make said drive, 2400 miles in the car with a dog and a three-year old, is a very daunting task.

We made one-way plane reservations last night for all of us and the dog for under $300.

We still have to deal with getting Audrey's paperwork filed, but Jim (God love him) has agreed to handle all of it because it requires a trip to the funeral home and I have never been able to go there. In fact, I can barely even drive by. When she was brought there from the hospital, Jim handled it all. It is the time when I loved him the most in our life. He was so strong and protective. He specifically forbade me from going there to deal with forms and picking out urns. He made all of the decisions and he did beautifully. I couldn't be more grateful.

So, there is no more drama about trying to plan a cross-country drive in winter. No more worries about where we'll stay or what route we'll take. No more worrying that we may just drive eachother nuts before we got to the new house.

For now, peace.

(but ask me on the 4th when the packers show up)

**Edited to add**

As we were trying to make all of these plans last night, we found ourselves franitcally trying to find the folder from the funeral home that contained the form we had to fill out for taking Audrey oiut of state. I was on the verge of meltdown and started to cry. As we found the folder, Jim looked at me and said "It just doesn't get any easier, does it." I thought about it and just said "No, it doesn't get easier, you just learn to ignore it for longer and longer periods of time."

I think that's it. It never gets easier. It gets easier to ignore it for a while, but eventually, it all comes back and the pain is there as if it never left.