The packing and supervising the movers was especially hard, because at that point I didn't know if he would make it or not. If he did, I knew I'd be hearing for months on end about every little thing that went wrong, everything he thought wasn't packed well, every missing thing would be assumed stolen. I'd have to worry about insurance reports and getting into a fight with the moving company. This is what happened the last two moves. His life would become miserable and by extension so would mine.
If he didn't make it, none of it would matter. I couldn't give two fucks about material items in comparison with everything else that's been going on.
But I've still got two people's worth of luggage here, because I had to pack him enough that he would potentially be alright for a month while our other stuff was in storage and the house was being worked on. Plus two boxes of cleaning supplies and miscellaneous small containers I rescued from the fridge and cleaned out (all of which he would recognize individually and mourn individually if they went missing, plus all the others I'm sure I missed and tossed because I was cleaning fridge and freezer in a hurry). Plus bucketloads of paperwork for immigration, health records, house purchase stuff and the remnants of our legal fight with the apartment landlord. All of which has weight and now I'll only be flying with one person's allotment of luggage.
I'll have to toss or donate the rest, including two perfectly good suitcases, and I don't know if his family will be pissed, like are his clothes something they would want to keep as a memory of him. I can leave some of the cleaning supplies at the shared house where I'm sure they'll go to good use, but the rest of it will have to go.
Then there's a houseplant, well three incarnations of said houseplant in separate pots plus two cuttings, that I'm going to have to figure out how to get it to best survive the plane trip as possible, maybe dumping the soil and wrapping the roots in wet paper towel and repotting it at soon as I get there, because this one was extremely important to him and it's important to me too as part of a memorial and I can't let it die. It couldn't go with the movers because it wouldn't survive a month in a dark warehouse with no water.
It's an organizational nightmare and I'm plagued with remembering how miserable he's been in the past when this stuff falls apart, and I want to imagine him telling me it's okay, but I know it's probably not, because he was always hiding from me how upset he was despite all the complaints I heard, and developed the idea that I couldn't tolerate it. So I can't do wishful thinking.
