Where Is Home Now? (Part One)

September 02, 2018
Where Is Home Now? (Part One)

Where Is Home Now?
Part 1

That first moment when you wake from sleep. That brief second of peace right before your brain truly starts to fire – then the truth of the day before hits you like a cast iron pan to the head. The tears begin to form and trickle out over your face.

The year was 1994. I was 23 years old.  The year is 2018. I am 47 years old.

Loss is loss, is loss is loss. The profound emptiness and pain that loss leaves you is really unexplainable until you walk in its shoes, until you wake up the next day and realize it’s real.

That very first day you realize a loved one is gone forever – whether through a break up, a divorce or a death. That moment when you know it’s permanent, it’s forever altered. There’s no going back. I truly only know death, but I’ve talked to many who mourn their failed marriage or union - I can only image it and liken it to a death too.

There is a commonality in such losses – each a little different, but hearts no less flattened, cracked, or broken.

My mom is gone. She’s dead. I’ll never hear her voice again. I’ll never feel her embrace again. She won’t be there when I get married. She won’t be a grandma. I just can’t believe it.

Those are the thoughts that run on loop for a decade. Each major life event is a splinter in the memory, though time dulls the pain of loss and hope fills the gaping hole. Faith and hope carry you. It brings you peace knowing that one day you will, you will see your loved one again.

My dad is gone. He’s dead. I’ll never hear his voice again. I’ll never feel his embrace again. 

This time it’s different, REALLY different. It’s different because the loss doesn’t seem as piercing. Yes, there’s a deep sadness, but the memories are much more abundant. He was there. He walked me down the isle. He became a grandpa. He lived a full, well-lived life.

This time it’s different. It’s different because I feel like I have no home to go to. I know that may sound strange, because I have my own family. I do have a beautiful home. So let me preface it this way - for many of us Mom and Dad, they are home. Whether it’s together, or separate – Mom and Dad give us a place to go, no matter how old we are. We go to Mom and Dad’s for this or that. Now I have no home.

This is something I’m contending with…

Each day living in this reality brings me down another path. The other day I stood on the pier staring out at the ocean and the beach. It was the first day I felt at peace, hopeful.

I finally felt well that day. 

Wellness. Wellness in grief and mourning – that short walk did me well. You know what else made me feel well? Getting up and making my bed. That simple little task made me feel like I had my shit together.

What’s next?  I guess I’ll share that at some point because sharing is caring.

We all need a little hope. We all need to feel connected, like someone gets me, someone gets what I’m going through. We all need to shine a little light for each other in darkness and loss.

You are not alone and neither am I.

~ xxx Ann Marie