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Unpacking


I have been unpacking since our move in September. Both literally and figuratively.  Boxes and totes and emotions and feelings. Each box bringing up memories of a former life, a full life as a family of four.  A life of happiness and laughter and love and sadness and hospital trips and cancer. It’s been a daunting task to keep all the memories, happy and sad untangled.  To not feel a wave of sadness as I come across an old bottle of Matt’s medication, or hospital badges, or records of cars long since sold.  I have lost myself looking through his clothes, old pictures, just knick-knacks long forgotten. 

There was much excitement of a new start in a new house. But the way things worked out, by the time I had the assurance my buyers wanted to proceed with the deal to the time I needed to move, I had ten days to pack up and go. I felt confident that we could do this.  I mean we moved from Michigan to North Carolina to Kansas in a span of three years.  Ten days to literally move down the street and around the corner? This was easy. 

But moving quick meant no time to sort through Matt’s items and also downsize for a smaller home.  I had barely touched Matt’s things as is. It took a year to clean out his closet and his office was pretty much untouched.  We ended up bringing in a lot of memories I had not yet been brave enough to tackle into a new space. I wanted to start over with a clean slate, begin a new chapter.  Moving this quick meant all the sadness, the grief, the emotions I have not yet wanted to acknowledge were now literally making a new home in my new home. 

Moving meant I was leaving my safety net behind.  It was acknowledging that I am moving on.   All decisions from here on out are mine and mine alone.  Not made for me.  Not made as a partnership with Matt.  It’s opened up many unhealed wounds and made me face my grief head on.  It has made me sit, uncomfortably, miserably at times, with the fact that I am not yet comfortable as a single person. That my life as I imagined with my person was cut tragically short. 

Moving made me acknowledge that I have managed to keep a brave face now for two years.   I have been on cruise control, in a state of fight or flight. I have been going through the motions to keep the wheels on. 

I have been grieving not only the loss of my best friend but terrified that my time with my children in my home is nearly over.   I have been stuck in a cycle of fear instead of excitement- for their futures in college, for their achievements in high school, in knowing I’ll soon truly be an empty nester.   I need to focus on the positives and not the fear. This is exciting.  For me and the kids. I have so much life ahead of me.  A glorious, beautiful, full life of possibilities but I have been so focused on being alone I have not recognized this as such.


I watched Matt slowly die for years and then experienced another loss six months after his passing when my mom had a devastating stroke and her life was forever altered.  I have been through it.  My decisions are mine and what I feel are best for me and the children.  I don’t feel the need to be a people pleaser to this imaginary group of friends that may judge my actions.  Grief has no timeline. My grief is mine and mine alone. 

After we moved, I really isolated myself.  I was so sad.  So many emotions unearthed.   I was not sleeping well, I was drinking more wine than I wanted to.   A few weeks ago at the encouragement of friends I booked a last minute trip to clear my head.   My kids also encouraged me to go and reset for a few days.  Breathe and laugh and smile and live.  I ran away to New York City and it was just what my soul needed.  It gave me time to reflect on what is important in life.  

There is no need to be sad. I may feel alone romantically (who knew I was wired to feel such a desire to have a person by my side?) but I am not alone.   My kids are amazing.   They are healthy and happy.  Thriving.  I have a wonderful support system.  I have a circle of friends that I can be honest and real with.  And God Bless the ones that get my crying phone calls and heart to hearts on the moments I just need to have a moment. My family is healthy and doing well.  I am healthy and in the best shape of my life.  I have a successful business and amazing partner. 


So yea, we are in a new home.  One that I love and so do the kids.  It feels cozy. It feels warm.  It feels like home. There are memories to be made. And it IS the life that Matt and I talked about in those final months.  It shouldn’t feel sad or scary.  It is exciting.  A new chapter.  A clean slate. A little messy and a whole lot of beautiful.  

I’m ready to go into 2025 with a new outlook. A whole lot less fear, a heart full of gratitude, and the confidence of knowing that so much beauty and life still awaits us all.  

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