Denial: Over

I am no longer capable of burying my head in the South Carolina sand and denying that in five days I'm packing all my earthly belongings in a giant U-Haul and haulin' it across several state lines. My house officially looks half-empty. Half-lived in. It's a state in flux. And it's exciting and disconcerting all at the same time.

My son doesn't know what to think of all this chaos. He has had a lot of fun pushing empty boxes around the living room, but he's really not too happy with how distracted Mommy and Daddy are lately. Tonight I was doing some work in my office/guest room, which is now basically stripped bare except for this computer, and Kostyn walked in and looked up at the wall that used to have Chris' guitars hanging on it. Kostyn normally points to one and signs "Help" (well, his version of "help," which looks suspiciously like his version of "more") and I get one down and put it on the floor for him to strum.

When he saw that bare wall tonight, he threw up his arms in this exasperated, "The guitars are gone, too!?" motion, looked at me disapprovingly, and walked out. It was sad, and hysterically funny.

Denial is also over because I've begun to say goodbye to my friends here. I had breakfast with my pal Tripp on Saturday morning. Tripp, a retired lieutenant colonel in the Marine Corps, and I crossed paths several years ago when we were both volunteering with the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life. We joined forces and eventually were co-chairmen of the local 12-hour, overnight event one year, raising $165,000 for the ACS and getting very, very overtired in the process.

I've since worked with Tripp at Special Olympics track and field events, too, which are always a blast. Last year, when he and another caring soul started up the Lowcountry Autism Foundation to help families dealing with autism, he asked me to be a board member. I was loving being a full-time mom but missing the part of my life that volunteering with ACS and hospice had filled, so I happily accepted.

Tripp taught me a lot about the essence of giving, and how much you get in return when you give. For me, he will always be the shining example of community service, and I will miss him and his outlook so much.

I've since said goodbye to a handful of others who are close to my heart, and each one has enriched my life here. So far, no tears though. For some reason (denial creeping back in???) I'm sure we will see one another again. And that comforts me.