My house has been one long reconstruction project. Today I woke up to yesterday's hard work. The living room was last night's project. This project is hard for me since it was one of the last things that Jason and I worked on together. It is time. The only things left for that room are trim along the floor and something to cover that floor.
Interesting to me is how connected I was to the project. The last year he was alive we had a long list of things to do around the house. About halfway through the year we had help from all sorts of family--we had help in shifts--it was amazing! But there were still things to do--as a matter of fact, there still are things to do.
There is something sad about getting these things done, rather than just looking at the familiar half-way done progress. Fixing things on the house is very tough for me and, in most cases I would rather someone else do the hands on. Yesterday I put in my little share of the work and, thanks to my awesome dad, the ceiling and walls are all done in the middle room. It only took me four years to fix it up.
That is quite a long time to keep avoiding a house renovation. I just don't think rationally when it comes to these to these projects, even though I should at least put in real thought into what is going on. Fixing takes away a memory of my husband, even though I know that the renovation can't stay unfinished. Days like this where I wake up to seeing a finished area of the house just makes me break down. I was already in tears last night before I finally zonked out. Tears from a coat of paint.
But yesterday was not bad. It didn't even hit that the room was fixed until long after my dad left. He taught me new secrets on how to paint well as well as how to smooth out rough edges in sheetrock. It was a good day. The night just stunk from Brainz. But brainz are better after sleep. Right?