Northern Michigan Woman - Jan/Feb 2024 Fitness Issue
Home SWEET Goodbye
Laura Walker 2023-12-22 13:26:34
Yesterday was hard. Not in a physical way, although I felt the effects of the “hard” in my body. I still feel them today. It is early now and I could only sleep a few hours. Why? Perhaps the sad adrenaline from yesterday is still coursing through my veins. It was only yesterday that we sold our family home.
Seller’s remorse, I guess it is a real physical and emotional sickness because that is what I am feeling. Is it really remorse? Am I sad about not living there anymore? Am I sad about not taking care of the house itself ? Perhaps this quote by philosopher Jiddu Krishnamurti that I read this morning will give me clarity, “One is never afraid of the unknown; one is afraid of the known coming to an end.”
I knew that home. I knew who lived in that home. I loved the moments I lived in that home. I looked at photos last night and there were thousands of photos from the moments we lived in our home.
Then I opened up Facebook and our neighbor who had bought our snowmobiles posted a video of his kids zooming around on my kids’ snowmobiles. It was bittersweet. I love those kiddos and was so pleased they were having fun and making moments to remember. Yet my heart ached with memories of my kids on those sleds, laughing and zooming around our yard.
But that time has passed. The kids may only come home once the whole winter this year or not at all. I think that is where my heartache lies and my fear rises…the known has come to an end. No one has died, yet that is how I feel sometimes. The death of childhood. The death of my familiar role as mother.
That seems silly. I know. So dramatic, but it is dramatic when all you ever wanted was to be a mom. My most enjoyable and most difficult role I have played in my life. As I write this, tears roll down my face and snot from my nose hangs waiting to be wiped. Okay, I break and get a tissue. “Get a hold of yourself,” I reason. That is what my mom would say to me in moments like this.
So I will get a hold of myself by avoidance. I will avoid the topic, avoid the feels. I avoid the thoughts. I’ll travel. I’ll get busy. I will find new things to do. I will move forward. I’ll create new opportunities with my grown children. I am already part of their life. I am blessed to be invited into their future.
We celebrated Thanksgiving last week and I told them, “I wish I was still in charge of your calendars.” I had decided from birth when they would sleep, what they would eat, who they would play with, where vacation would be spent and how holidays would unfold. Now I am the invited one. Will they continue to invite me? Will we have time?
I think that is what it boils down to… time. Time to sit next to each other. Time to be the one who hears their passions and plights. Time to sit in silence and hear them breathe. Time to sit and watch them discover new things. Like when they were little, I would watch their little hands explore a toy and watch their thinking and solving skills grow. Those are the wonders I miss. I miss that time.
The known has come to an end. It is time to walk into the unknown. I don’t know the future, I never have.
So perhaps the house closing is actually a new beginning. It is a beginning for the new owners. It will be a new joy for them to see the sun dance on the walls as the water reflects the rising morning sun. It is a beginning for them to enjoy the trees and the beauty of Northern Michigan. It is a new beginning.
It is a new beginning for us too. We will move into our generational family home affectionately called The Cottage. Will the title change? Will it become home? I’m at “The Home” doesn’t really roll off the tongue like a phrase my husband has said to me since I met him. “I’m at the cottage…I’ll be home soon.”
Now the cottage and home are synonymous, yet unknown. I will trust Jesus to guide me into the known and unknown.
As an entrepreneur, health coach, and international Christian speaker, Laura Walker is devoted to empowering women to overcome their past, pursue their dreams and celebrate victories, all guided by faith in an amazing God, even in the face of fear. Currently residing on Torch Lake in Michigan with her husband Clary, Laura cherishes moments with their six adult children, their spouses and four grandchildren. To connect with Laura, you can find her on Facebook and IG, or explore her website at www.lauraspeaks.org.
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