My Room

Towards the end of Brad's life he spent a lot of time in our bedroom. With his health declining he was really tired and uncomfortable, so the most comfortable place for him was in our room. He also was very easily stressed and when he'd get that way he would just go to our room. This is also where he passed away. So flash forward to now. I have noticed that I spend a lot of time in our room. I use to be the one who was bouncing all over the house cleaning and cooking. And now the house is a wreck, there are bags of his clothes by the front door that need to be donated and there are just different piles of things that need to be either trashed or donated (he never wanted to get rid of anything, so a lot of it is stuff I've wanted to get rid of for years) Don't get me wrong, it is still liveable, just obviously in transitioning and not how I am use to my house looking. So anyways I use to be all over the place and would come in and watch a movie or fold laundry in the bedroom with him sometimes. But for the most part I was all over the house. Now I can't seem to get myself up to do anything. I don't want to do any of the cleaning that I usually love to do (yes I'm weird like that). I don't really feel comfortable in any other room other than the bedroom. I don't know why. Even writing this I'm sitting in bed, actually in the same place he passed away. Is that weird? Shouldn't it weird me out that this is where he died? But I've been able to sleep here and spend so much time here, I guess maybe its comforting to me? I don't know.