Moving is one of the most stressful experiences of life. My husband and I have moved so many times we’ve lost count and we’re good at moving. We’ve lived in our present house for 20 years, the longest time we’ve lived anywhere, and made the house our own. This house has nurtured us through some tough times and now we must move.
In the fall, my husband’s aorta dissected for the second time. He had three emergency surgeries, including a 13-hour operation to graft a Dacron descending aorta to his existing aorta. It was life-threatening surgery. His chances of dying were 20 percent and his chances of being paralyzed were 10 percent. Unfortunately, he had a spinal stroke during the surgery and, though he can move his legs and feet, according to his neurologist, he will never walk again.
My husband has been in the hospital for three months. He was going to be transferred to a nursing home for short-term rehabilitation, but at the last minute, was sent to the hospital rehab floor and the care of the spinal cord injury team. For this to happen, I had to find a place for us to live immediately. In fact, I only had three days. I started calling senior living complexes and they were all full. Where could we go? If I didn’t find a place for us to live what would happen to us?
Thankfully, the last place I called had a small assisted living apartment available – the only apartment and our only option. I signed the necessary papers, put down a deposit, and visited the apartment, only 700-square feet of space. The apartment wouldn’t hold much of our furniture and I had to consider my husband’s disability in arranging it. Months from now, after we are settled, the apartment may feel like home. But it will never be the home we’re leaving.
There is a wooded area behind the house, a stopping place and nesting place for many birds, including cardinals. I love to watch the birds the birds land in the pine trees, the Spring Snow apple tree in our yard, and low bushes bursting with berries. On one of the coldest days of winter a flock of mixed birds – cardinals, blue jays, finches, sparrows – landed on the bushes and ate the red berries in a matter of minutes.
We are going to miss our home and the space. We are going to miss the flowers that bloom in the garden. We are going to miss the neighbors who live on our cul de sac. We are going to miss the location that feels like country and is within eight minutes of the city. I’m the one in charge of clearing out the house and moving us, tasks that must be done in the next three weeks because my husband will only be in rehab for about 20 days. At four in the morning I awaken from a sound sleep, my mind racing, my anxiety mounting.
The other day, I had a total meltdown. I sobbed for my husband and I sobbed for myself. Though we’re grieving the home we love and must leave, we are blessed to have each other. When our daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash, and when her former husband died in another crash, we became guardians of our twin grandchildren. The twins were 15 years old when they moved in with us and turn 22 in February. They will be moving out of the house and getting their own apartments. For all I know, they, too, are grieving for the home they learned to love.
After my daughter died, I made a promise to her: I will not fail you. I’ve made the same promise to my husband. I will not fail him, I will cherish the second chance he has been given. Wherever we are, as long as we are together, it is home.
It seems so silly to grieve the loss of a home, but the emotions are very real. I’m being forced to leave an apartment that I’ve lived in for 3 years. The building sold and the new owners want to convert it and charge a much higher rent. The actual apartment isn’t much. A long rectangle from one end of the house to the other with just one wall that separates the room at one end. A tiny bathroom. It’s not new. Not fancy. Not in the best area; not in the worst. However, the fond memories formed here have caught me off guard. The feelings of ease and peace that greeted me nightly after a day of work. The ugly yard that the owners never take care of. The greenery grows very high and unkempt, but it attracts bees, butterflies, squirrels, birds and even a cat here and there. The yard is a little piece of green heaven nestled in a concrete jungle and tucked away behind my kitchen window. Sitting at this window, that yard has soothed my tired soul many times over. The old man that lives upstairs showed me all the places in that yard where he had once planted herbs. The mint still grows. I’ve also taken countless pictures of the birds in my yard from the comfort of my window. Well, what more can I say? I’m in mourning. Thank you for your article.
Thanks for being so vulnerable and addressing this. My husband and I moved so many times through out our marriage, that when we finally settled into a house, it was similar to the one you describe. Ideal in so many ways.
For various reasons we had to sell it and move along. Although we had lived there only 7 years, I put my heart and soul into remodeling it. It was truly a dream home. AND I wasn’t prepared for the grief that my children would go through as this was the “go to place” for all their friends and so many memories are there…
thanks for acknowledging this is real
Thanks for reading my article Holly. You may find comfort in memories of your former home, and put your heart and soul into your next home.
Thank you for sharing your story. So much love to you and yours. We are ever alone, as much as we feel we are at times. ❤️?
Thank you for reading my article Katelyn. Thankfully, we love our new place and it suits us at this time of life.
in 2013 my husband and I decided we wanted to downsize. We were going to build a new smaller house. We lived in a 3, 500 square foot house for 28 years. The house was paid for. Our two children grew up in that house and we made a lot of memories. So we sold our home and moved into a rental house. Now it has been five years and we are still in the rental and paying rent. I cried nearly every day for the first year. I couldn’t sleep because when I laid down at night all I could think about was “I can’t believe we sold our home”. I don’t know how to let go. I want to let go and have a good attitude but I’m still tormented in my mind. Thank you for posting your story. If my husband or my children got sick I know that the house or these material things wouldn’t matter one bit. I want to be grateful for the things that matter.
Thank you for sharing this 🙂
Thank you. I needed this.
It truly is painful to pack up and leave the place you love and have cared for for so many years. It was certainly hard for me when I had no choice but to put my Kentucky home of 31 years on the market in Aug. of 2021. I lost my entire immediate family in late 2018 and was living alone in the house with little assistance (mainly Covid-related). I was already struggling with the bills and trying to find work of any kind when Covid hit. It decimated my savings. By the time the house and property sold in September, I was down to my last $1k or so. I just didn’t have the income my parents and grandparents had to hang on to the place in the long run and my neck of the woods in rural KY is a very poor area with few jobs to go around.
After the closing, I ended up packing up my belongings and cat (all that remains of my immediate family) and moving in with relatives several states away until I could find a new place. Part of that time was spent bouncing around on various family members’ couches and, when family dysfunction and drama broke out, I ended up bouncing around in hotel rooms in two different states for a bit. I dearly missed my home and began to regret selling it really fast.
In January of 2022, I finally landed a 700 square foot “shotgun apartment” in a certain Midwest city. Not exactly what I had in mind from the get-go, but it is a nice apartment in an awesome location and better than homelessness. I am currently back in college and working with a job agency to find work. But I still miss my home dearly. I miss the trees my grandpa and I planted, the big yard, the space, the bushes where birds gathered, the treasured possessions I had to leave behind. I’ve told friends and family back home that I absolutely do not want to see any pics of the property or hear any updates about it.
Your blog post resonates on many levels. It is a tough choice to sell your home, but the circumstances that led you to sell were also tough.
Harriet, your story inspires me and gives me another perspective of a situation I am in. I am 33 year old grieving a life that just started and ended abruptly during what was supposed to be the most meaningful time of a new married couples life. I’ve been mourning and filled with grief for almost four years, trying to make sense of the loss. It would be great if I had an opportunity to exchange emails with you someday. Perhaps you have stories to share that may help me see another perspective and continue healing.
Dear Harriet,
Thank you for your writing — so beautiful. I came across your article on the day that I signed away my home. I lived in it for 73 years.
My Mom passed away about 12 years ago, and I decided to not be a burden on anyone. Just sell the house and clear it out, while I am healthy.
But Harriet, I will cry when I leave. I know of no other place that will make me feel as happy. So, I know how you felt when leaving your home.
If you can say a prayer for me — and I will do the same for you. Hope your husband is doing better. You are so fortunate to have him.
I have no family so I am going closer to a college where I attended years ago — maybe I can be of help to the students. But I still feel so lonely,
without family. I do have a little puppy, my best friend.
Thank you again, Harriet. I will be praying for you and your family.
Blessings,
Jan