How's that for closure?

Yesterday morning, something inside me snapped. I had had enough of the waking up every day, wondering if today would be the day he would call me, if today would be the day that everything worked itself out.

So, sound minded woman that I am, I called him immediately after said snappage, and told him that I would be coming by that night to get my things. More like, coming to pack up my things and take them away. I just couldn't handle the constant reminder that he had them, and that with them there, he had to have known that I was always tied to him in some way. Hanging by a string.

We worked out a time, I told him that he didn't have to stay if he didn't want to, as long as he was comfortable with it (which he said, of course he was) and five minutes before I was due to show up, he called to see if I was still coming. When I got there, he opened the door for me, told me where a few things were that he had moved, and then made to walk out and leave me to my thing. I put my hand on his arm and gave him a look..you know...the "after more than a year THAT'S all I'm worth to you?". He grabbed me in a big hug, hands lingering on hips, and then he ran out like he was being chased.

A few minutes later, he called to tell me something he'd forgotten, and again, there was going to be nothing said. I had to say it myself..."I don't like this, this is really hard."

His response was a jumbled mix of emotions..."I'm sorry, I know that was really cold of me to just leave, I didn't mean for it to be like that, it's just too soon for me to see you, to be in the same room with you, I haven't had time to fully process this yet, what with the funeral and everything, I just need more time, I never want to not be able to talk to you or have you in my life" (obviously not verbatim, as I was trying to take it all in at the same time, but that's a pretty close regurgitation of it) and then the call was over, with agreement for me to call when I was done so he could come back.

I hung up the phone, burst into tears, wandering aimlessly around the home that I had spent the majority of my time in for the past 6 months. So many memories were made there, and it was the last time I was laying eyes on any of it. I laid on the bed, breathing in the scent of him, of us, that was no longer mine, and my heart broke just a little bit more. I let my fingers trail over furniture, walked through every room, seeing everything for the last time through a blurry veil of tears. I read some lyrics that he had left on the coffee table, and took poignant comfort in the fact that by writing what he had, he is hurting, too.

I pulled it together after about five minutes of complete and utter devastation, and made the call to my friend who came to help me pack up and move. He saw my pain, and bear hugged me within an inch of my life, as the last of my tears soaked into his shoulder. Then, he packed the majority of it up himself as I stood there in a daze, and we moved it all out.

I did one more walk through, turning off lights and trying to erase the memories, and with a soft "Goodbye, Boyfriend's-Last-Name Household" I closed the door behind me and moved on with my life.

It was hard, so much harder than I thought it would be. Especially seeing my boy in pain as well.
Yet, it's not about him anymore. Even though I love him to death and do not want to be apart from him, it's time to focus on me, and what is best for me.

Making the call to get my things was one of the hardest, yet strongest, things I've ever had to do. It hurt like a bitch, and still hurts today, but that pit in my stomach is not nearly as big as it was before. There were some points during the day that I think it even went away completely.

Now, I am sitting at home alone, amongst my boxes, not wanting to unpack them and bring on more sadness. I was out for drinks with friend, but left as I thought that maybe coming home would be good for me. It wasn't.

So, out I go again. One more night of avoiding it won't kill me, right?