From Little Things Big Things Grow

Again this is from a while ago.  I am going through my files and posting stuff I was not comfortable posting at the time.  A trip down memory lane has been good for me.  Little things that are big things.
From little things big things grow.  That is what the song tells us, and I reckon, all things being equal, that is what happens.
It is a day at home and I am finding it hard.  Amongst other things I have a will, intellect (I think it is there) and emotions.  Will and intellect are fine.  It is my emotions that are running amuck.  Attending places we would attend together but realizing that is a thing of the past.  I feel I need to do the things I have always done, but that only creates some sort of sense of normality.  It does not bring him back.
I guess one of the reasons I am having a hard time is because I am going through the little things of Stuarts.  Thankfully there is not much.  He always was a minimalist.  But in doing what I am doing I was reminded of that song. 
Someone asked “why is it people insist on doing things so quickly?”  I can only talk for myself. I need closure.  I have a confidence that he is better off, but I remain and don’t feel better off.
Up until now I have been dealing with the big things.  Deciding what needs to be done with what.  Clearing rooms.   Setting up his place for the next person to inhabit it.  I have achieved a lot but there is still a lot to achieve.
Cupboards and beds and desks are one thing.  Personal memorabilia is another.  All the little things that gave meaning to the big things.  The things that were important to him.
Like star gazing.  He knew the heavens so well.  I have come across so many telescopes.  He showed me the rings of Saturn.  Yet I am finding bits that I know go with telescopes.  Little things that enhance the performance of the telescope.  That home was not real good for stargazing.  I remember poor old dad thinking the moon was bright and discovering the light was from the streetlight.
I reckon it is right to grieve.  Not a morbid grief that goes on indefinitely, but one that experiences and comes to grips with loss.  I am good as long as I am not talking about him.  When I do, I am likely to become a blubbering mess.
I really appreciate the well wishes, comfort and prayers of others, but one thing that has come home vividly to me, is how no one else experiences my grief.  They may have been there and done that, and understand well, but right now it is my turn.
But what I am going through can be multiplied many times the world over.  I remember howling my eyes out when mum went.  I needed to do it.  It was healthy. 
I am just grateful there is a hope in my grief.  It is why I chose the song at the funeral “On Christ the solid rock I stand.”
This is a process.  Eventually I will have a piece of Stuart memorabilia.  But right now it is hard.  As someone said on Facebook, “it is easier to die, than watch someone die.”  Fortunately he is just separated to me, and not to the one most important to me.
I am dealing with the little things.  Hopefully from them big things will grow.