Of Moving Vans and Big Plans

The last two weeks have zipped by in a blurry whirlwind of packing and tossing.   By staying steadfastly focused on the shiny adventures that I believe are just ahead, I’ve managed to brute force myself through uncountable difficult choices. Take with or store, give away or garbage – eventually the stuff in this big house was reduced to four piles.  While moving stuff around, we uncovered emotional  land mines everywhere.  We all suffered.  But by pushing through, I feel like we’ve all healed just a little bit.

Maggie’s mother and sister played crucial supportive roles in helping me push through this giant chore. Almost every night and both weekends we dug in and, to my amazement, we are almost done.  All that remains in the house now is some final bits still spread among the furniture that will stay for staging.

Maggie’s sister reminded me during my many moments of weakness that an elephant can only be eaten one bite at a time.  At times, it seemed like the elephant we were choking down was liberally seasoned with fresh onions with an occasional surprise habanero.  But we are pushing through.

Elephant: 100
Chris and Company: 101

We are winning both the battle and the war.  The spoils go to the victor.

Today, I Shall Celebrate

Source - A friend posted this on facebook

Today I am celebrating.

Today is 1 year since I made a life changing decision.

Today, 1 year ago, I bought my new house.

The day Seth died, I knew I didn't want to live in our house anymore.

I took my counselors advise, and waited for the 1 year sadiversary to make any life changing decisions.

3 months before the 1 year sadiversary hit, I suddenly had the strangest thing happen. I would be sleeping and I would wake up in middle of the night. I would sit up in bed, terrified, and not have the slightest clue where I was. I would get up and turn on the light, and stand in our bedroom, terrified, confused, and even with the light on, I had no clue where I was.

I lived in our house for 11 years, and I suddenly had no clue where I was.

It was one of the scariest times I have ever faced. To be in our home, scared, and not knowing where I was.

It was a horrible feeling. That went on for 3 months.

I finally came to the conclusion that I was no longer home. I was in a strange, scary place, that I didn't want to be in.

As soon as the 1 year mark hit, I was out looking for a house.

I looked at 2 houses. When I walked into the 3^rd house, I stood in the doorway, not even seeing the house yet, and started crying. After a year, I was finally home. It didn't matter to me what the house looked like, I was home. (Luckily the house was cute and didn't need much work!).

I made an offer on it that night. After my friends and family came to look at the house, and I had made my offer, I sat in my car in the driveway and cried. I didn't want to turn around and go “home” when I was already home. I didn't want to spend one more second in our home.

I still dragged myself to our home, and waited for all the real estate transactions to happen.

I remember sitting on the floor in our home, looking around, thinking “I have lived here for 11 years?? It doesn't feel like I ever lived here.”

Our house had become an empty shell of a house. It felt so empty and cold.

Our home was no longer my home.

Finally closing day came. I closed on November 18^th, 2011.

I went and signed all the paperwork, and got the keys to my home.

I drove to our home after.

It was snowing, and when I pulled into our drive way, I sat in my car. I didn't want to go inside. I debated about getting a sleeping bag and sleeping on the floor in my house until I could get moved.

Through my tears, I looked at our front door, and there it was. A huge (about the size of a  baseball), orange, monarch butterfly was on our front door.

(Back story, when Seth died, I wrote him a letter that was cremated with him. The only thing I can remember that the letter said is “When you are thinking of me, send me an orange butterfly”).

When I saw the butterfly, I was angry. How dare someone play this kind of joke on me??

It’s middle of November, snowing outside, of course the butterfly was fake!

As I started walking up to our front door, the butterfly started moving, and then flew away.

I was in complete shock.

That was when I knew, without a doubt, I had just made the best decision for myself.

I knew it was time for me to go, and I never looked back.

I have never once regretted the move.

Moving out of our home and into my home, was a turning point in my grief.

I never felt like I was abandoning my memories that our house kept.

I knew that my brain and heart kept my memories of Seth and our life together.

A house did not keep those memories.

I often times forget that I spent 11 years living somewhere else. It feels like I have lived in my house my whole life. When I am reminded that I haven’t lived in my house my whole life, I get a major case of whiplash.

I haven’t had the problem of waking up and not knowing where I am since I moved.

I wake up in middle of the night, and know exactly where I am.

I feel safe and at home.

On a bad day, I want to run to my safe place.

My comfort.

My home.

One of my favorite songs is - I’m coming home, by Diddy Dirty Money.

In the song there is a verse that says “is a house really a home when your loved ones are gone?”

Without a doubt, buying my house is one of the best things I have done for myself since Seth’s death.

If you are struggling with this decision, remember a house does not hold your memories.

Your brain and heart hold those memories.

As long as you have those two, you will always have your memories. 

Life Long Friends ....

..... are nourishment to the soul.

No, they are more than nourishment.  Sometimes they are truly life saving.  Truly.

I've had a difficult couple of months.  To put it mildly.
But last week I could tell that I was starting to feel better.  I could tell that the waves were ebbing back from whence they came.

And then I had the opportunity to spend one evening with some of my "sisters".  And they truly are sisters.
They all live closer to each other than I do.  So it's an "event" when we can get together.  Sometimes that means there are 5 of us, sometimes it means that there are 10 ..... or 50.
But every time, EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. they make me feel nothing but loved.  Totally.  Unconditionally.  Warts and all.
We have grown up together.
We have had children together.  Some waited longer than others .... and some continued well past everyone else, but we've been together.
We have cried together.
Especially back when were were only 18 or 19 and met for the very first time.  We spent 4 or so years together and bonded.  We bonded in a way I've never experienced in any other friendship.  I love these women and would do anything for any of them.

I am the first to become widowed.
Yay for me.
I've usually enjoyed coming in first, but this time ...... yeah, you all know.
This time it sucks.

I guess one of us had to be first.  And since I wouldn't wish this experience on my worst enemy, I certainly wouldn't wish that it had happened to one of them, rather than me.
I'm relieved that it happened to me .... and not to one of them.

It will happen to one of them.  Sooner or later.  And I'll be here.  And there.  Wherever they are .... I'll be there.
These women have known me since "before Jim".
They knew me "during dating Jim" .... which was an experience in itself.
They knew me "after becoming Mrs. Jim".
And now they've known me as "After Jim".
And they've hurt, cried, prayed and loved me more than ever.

Life long friends are more of a blessing than can be described.
They knew me "before Jim" so they don't judge the "after Janine".
Not at all.
For anything.
They just love me.
Like they've always loved me, but only more.

They are my sisters.
They've never held up expectations, judgements, conditions for friendship, or thrown the past into my face.
They have only .... always ..... loved me.

Last night my eyes were opened to all of the love radiating from each heart that surrounded me.
I thought my heart would burst from the love it was receiving.

Funny thing ... the heart.
It can be broken .... I know that without a doubt.
You can lose half of it when it's torn out of your life.
But the heart, much like the liver, can regenerate to some degree.
And last night, my heart started to regenerate.  I could actually feel it.

It will never be the same .... it can't be.  Jim was half of it.  That half is gone.
But it can grow around the empty part.
It becomes somewhat like a patchwork quilt.
Each person that loves me unconditionally leaves a patch.

My heart is pretty colorful with all of the patches covering it.

Yes, I've been hurt since Jim died.
I've been hurt by people who I thought were life-long friends.
I have been judged by those I called "friend".
There have been times when I thought my heart couldn't stand one more ounce of pain.  Especially from people who supposedly loved me.

But last night .... last night all of those patches of love covered my heart and opened my eyes.  My true friends have always been here.  Praying.  Waiting.  Loving.  And praying some more.

And now I know .... without a doubt .... where I will go when it's time to move.
I will go home.
And return to the arms, and hearts, of these friends.

I.
Can.
Not.
Wait.