It's past midnight and hard to sleep. While I have a few minutes to myself, I find myself consumed with anxious thoughts about moving home. I have been away from all of my friends and family for six months now, which was harder than I expected. Many times I found myself slumped against the wall, sobbing on the phone with my aunt, telling her over and over "I should have stayed, I want to come home." I didn't realize how emotionally devastating it would be, to be away from all of my loved ones for so long. More than anything in the world right now, I look forward to being home with the familiar people. Maine is where I grew up, where I met my amazing husband and all of my incredible friends.
There is a small part of me that is saddened, though. One huge reason I jumped on the opportunity to move 1,400 miles south was because I thought I could clear my head. Losing Dad three years ago knocked me on my ass so badly, I never recovered. Literally every day is an uphill struggle to cope with my loss. My other family members have moved on in their own ways - they have not forgotten, and they still grieve, but they have moved forward with their lives and for that I am happy. I need to get there myself. I am bracing myself for the move home because a part of my heart refuses to acknowledge that when I get back to Maine, my Dad still will not be there. I will not pull into the driveway of our old house and see him working on his car in the driveway, turning his head when he hears us pull up, setting down his tools and walking excitedly to our car. I will not get out of the driver's seat, run up to him and have him pick me up in a hug. I will not hear him say "Welcome home, baby. I missed you."
Instead, I will be stopping by his stone on our way into town. It will be evening by that time, most likely cold. I will walk to his grave and look down - seeing his name on the stone will make my stomach turn the way it always has. I will kneel down, kiss the cold granite, and whisper "I love you, Dad. I'm home." A tear may fall.
I am excited to go home, I want nothing more than to get my life together and spend time with the ones I love. Life is truly a gift and tomorrow is never certain. That was a lesson I learned the hard way; Cherish the ones you love before they are gone. Move forward but keep those you have lost in your heart, and make them proud. It is my time, now, to heal. Dad will not be there when I get home, but the others will - and that's what matters now.
There is a small part of me that is saddened, though. One huge reason I jumped on the opportunity to move 1,400 miles south was because I thought I could clear my head. Losing Dad three years ago knocked me on my ass so badly, I never recovered. Literally every day is an uphill struggle to cope with my loss. My other family members have moved on in their own ways - they have not forgotten, and they still grieve, but they have moved forward with their lives and for that I am happy. I need to get there myself. I am bracing myself for the move home because a part of my heart refuses to acknowledge that when I get back to Maine, my Dad still will not be there. I will not pull into the driveway of our old house and see him working on his car in the driveway, turning his head when he hears us pull up, setting down his tools and walking excitedly to our car. I will not get out of the driver's seat, run up to him and have him pick me up in a hug. I will not hear him say "Welcome home, baby. I missed you."
Instead, I will be stopping by his stone on our way into town. It will be evening by that time, most likely cold. I will walk to his grave and look down - seeing his name on the stone will make my stomach turn the way it always has. I will kneel down, kiss the cold granite, and whisper "I love you, Dad. I'm home." A tear may fall.
I am excited to go home, I want nothing more than to get my life together and spend time with the ones I love. Life is truly a gift and tomorrow is never certain. That was a lesson I learned the hard way; Cherish the ones you love before they are gone. Move forward but keep those you have lost in your heart, and make them proud. It is my time, now, to heal. Dad will not be there when I get home, but the others will - and that's what matters now.
