Beginnings and goodbye

Packing to leave my home. I lived here for more than 10 years and grief assails me. This place, its dusty corners, the smallness of it, I will miss all of it. My son spent the first three years of his life here. Now he will have to ferry from one flat to another, separated sometimes from his father, sometimes from his mother. She doesn't love me, stopped a long time ago. Signified it the moment she took off that ring, what, three years ago now. Do I still love her? I wonder, but my face is dusty, and I wipe my tears and thoughts away, and go back to the business of departure.