My house (my home) is sold. After 17 days on the market.
People say "congratulations". "How exciting." "Oh my gosh, in this market?". "You must be thrilled!".
I smile. I nod. I say "thank you". I cry late at night.
I walk through the rooms and halls and remember. Or try to remember. The kidadults are upset. This is their childhood home. This is our past. Our history. Their height markers are still on the doorjambs of their bedroom closet doors. How tall they have become. How small they once were.
How alone a new house will be. No nicks, no height markers. No memories. Everything will be in place. No dirty little hand prints. No damp towels on the floor. No laundry piled up in corners. All the things that drove me crazy...
So. The house (my home) is sold.
The hundreds of daffodils and tulips that bloom today in my gardens, that took years to plant and propagate, will bloom next year for a new family.
The fish in the pond will rely on someone else to feed them.
The grass will grow. Mowed by a new gardener.
My house (my home ) is sold. My only wish for the new owners is that they find at least half of the happiness and love I had here. That will be enough.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
The sign says "House For Sale".
But I know the sign is a lie. I know the truth. It should read "Home For Sale".
It has been 19 months since The Best Husband In The World left this world for another. I wonder at the time. Where has it gone? Yesterday he was here....
I have put our home up for sale.
A home that saw much laughter and much love. And some squabbles along the way. And some tears. And some heartache. All the things that make a house a home. All the things that make a gaggle of people a family.
So the sign says "House For Sale".
My kidadults are well on their way now. No longer littles or middles, they are forging ahead into adulthood. They are making their way into this great thing we call life. They are falling in love, graduating from college (and high school - my youngest little)... they are creating their own lives.
That leaves me.
And I have to grow, just like them. I have to move on. I have to accept the change. The biggest change of my life. Not one that I anticipated and not one that I asked for. But the only thing that is constant is change.. right?
This old house is too big for just me. Some days I feel I am walking through the gossamer curtain of ghosts. Some days it is too much. Some days I want to stay and embrace the ghosts and never leave. But it's too easy to draw the curtains and shut out the sunlight.
A very wise person in my grief group said, "You want to honor your loved one. They are gone, they lost their life and you’re upset about it, which means life must be precious. You shouldn’t waste life. By dwelling only on the loss you are wasting the very thing they lost and that does no honor to them. Honor them by reveling in what they ought to have had. If life is indeed precious then use it well. That would truly honor them."
I pondered that for some time until I understood its truth and wisdom. So - I have put our home up for sale. I don't know where I am going - I just know that I can't walk through halls of ghost. Ghosts of laughter, ghosts of memories.. things that were and things that could have been.
TBHITW would have said "On, On". I have to honor that. I have to find a new life. A life that holds precious what was, while finding a precious what will be.
I am finding solace in cooking right now. My hands feel good kneading bread, my pots and pans are simmering on a burner and I remember meals cooked, meals shared, recipes created and recipes best forgotten. I love my kitchen and am spending every last minute I can in it before I give it over to someone else. Someone new. Someone who will create their very own memories and scents and tastes.
So - my home is for sale. I only pray that the next family who occupies these walls finds all the happiness in them that we did.