I never wanted to take it down. I even kept working on it after Luke was born. Perhaps because I just wanted to see it done. Perhaps because I thought it would be the home of our next child. Many friends have offered to help us pack. This one I will do alone. I'm still not ready for it to go. I'm not ready to let go of his room. Perhaps because it's all that's left of him here--his possessions. Everything carefully selected either by me or friends and family that cared for him and our family. Every last detail designed in my mind and then created.
I don't want to see it go. I love the smell of this room. I love the smell of the new diapers in the changing table drawer. I love the smell when you open the closet. I'm not sure if it's the smell of the new car seat stored in there but it has such a distinct smell and I love it. I love the piles of clothes perfectly organized by size with my favorites on top. I love everything about this room.
Even though Luke never claimed the room as his own he was with me as I envisioned and created it. He was with me when I would wake up at 3 am unable to go back to sleep and I would work on things like assembling the crib and washing every last piece of clothing, sock, and blanket. He was with me as I laid on the floor staring at the window trying to decide what I could create for a window treatment for such a big window. He was with me as I would layout the paint samples and squint my eyes to try to visualize the paint colors and how they would look. He was with me on my birthday when all I wanted to do for my birthday was get his nursery painted. He was with me as I painted wooden blocks that I would add his name too once he was born. He was with me as I got up early and stayed up late sewing his quilt. He was with me when I wandered through the fabric store wondering if I was crazy to try to choose a color scheme that would force me to paint an already baby-blue room to a new color which wouldn't clash. He was with me when I drove up to Sandy to buy a changing table off of craigslist so I could have just what I envisioned. He was with me when I was exercising in Provo and found the perfect tree branch that would become the mobile above his bed. He was with me when I decided to sew my own bed-skirt for his crib. He was with me when I found the quaint animal prints in a boutique in San Francisco that I decided to turn into wall art. He was with me when I planned every last detail and with me as I implemented most of them.
We created this room together.
How do I put that in a box?
Watching the funeral director close the lid on Luke's casket was one of the hardest moments of my life. And now it is my responsibility to pack up all of his things and close the lid on the only physical evidence left of him.
I'm not ready to do that. I won't ever be ready for that. But sometimes life forces us to press forward and do the things we simple aren't ready to do.
Yesterday morning I was at least able to take pictures of Luke's nursery. Minus some pictures in the frames and repainting the mirrors, it is essentially how I envisioned it. I've loved this room. I've loved my rocking chair as a place to ponder, read, pray, think, cry, and write. At least I will be able to take the pictures and the memories with me wherever I go.
Dear nursery, I don't want to, but I must bid you adieu.