The move became official over this past week. It was this chaotic, emotional, and overwhelming week which marked the move from Matt and I’s home, we had built together, to a new home, I chose without him. A home the kids and I will build together. As things often do the weight of what this entailed was a heavy load to carry. It started with last Saturday’s big move. I stayed at my new home to direct where furniture and boxes should be going, and dozens of friends and family gathered at my old home to load up what was left. It was about the time that the two largest trailers of furniture made it to my new house, and someone informed me that the old house was almost empty, that it hit me. Hit me hard. The minute I imagined our home emptied the only logical thing for my brain to comprehend was when we had moved in.
Matt and I had bought our old home at auction. It was an exciting way to buy a home, not to mention an excellent deal. We didn’t have to deal with banks, and our title company was somewhere in Florida so although we weren’t closing until mid December it was no surprise when Matt asked the selling agent for the key code. Within hours we had our first boxes to the house a week before Thanksgiving. Nothing was going to stand in the way of his new home and the thrill of moving in. We worked late into the night, Evelyn fast asleep in her pack and play tucked into the (then empty) corner of our toy room, bustling around the new house moving in boxes, unloading, cleaning, and just enjoying each other. That move was fun, it was filled with new beginnings, and it was the last move we would ever make together.
And now here I was in my new town home, twenty some people piling boxes on boxes into the corners of what seemed a place half my old home’s size, and I seized up thinking of that last move Matt and I made together. I stepped out onto my new deck, squeezed our dog Maggie tight, and reminded myself, “God is good.” I reminded myself that breaking down in the midst of all these people making your load less then light was rude. I told myself to pull it together. And I did. I made it through that Saturday, and at the end of the day my old home was empty, and my new home filled.
It wasn’t until a couple days later when my parents were busy cleaning out the old place that a new wave of nostalgia washed over me. I knew it was time to walk around and say goodbye. Some places were much harder than others. The toy room was a tough one; we had spent hours and hours in there together as a family, building memories and having fun. The place Matt collapsed in our bedroom, also a tough one. As I stood over that spot glancing back into our bedroom it felt surreal that only four and a half short months prior that my bed stood tall under the two adorable corner windows of our room, that Matt’s enormous TV was mounted just above my head. . .and now, Matt was gone, and I was about to say goodbye forever. Outside the home was emotional too. Just glancing over our yard I’m sure anyone who knew Matt at all would probably be able to practically still see him out there. Racing from one place to another, one project to the next, and all the while pushing Evelyn in one of the four swings he had rigged up for her.
My own goodbyes were hard, but I had promised Evelyn the same, so the next day I took her to the house to walk it once more as well. It was pouring outside, which seemed all too appropriate. We did the same thing together, Isaac in tow, which I had done alone the day prior. Each room, one by one. We would walk in, sit down, call out to Matt, tell stories, and cry. Oh, did she cry. Since the night I told Evelyn of her father’s passing I’ve only seen a few times when the cries coming from her were truly from her gut. Cries of utter pain that no four year old should ever even know of. These cries during her goodbye of our home . . . these were those kind of cries. Her room was the hardest for her. She sat on that floor, and begged me to stay. She told me she didn’t want to go, that she never wanted to leave. I told her I understood. Since leaving that day she has said little about wanting to go back; here and there, but doesn’t seem too upset. She is at a new childcare, and I think is happy for the most part. She spends her days with her brother, and I doubt she could ask for much more.
We have moved. The unpacking is far from done. The cleaning isn’t over yet. The boxes still to be opened are many. But our goodbyes are done. It is a step forward, a step towards new beginnings. It is a step I took with Christ. . .out in faith, and faith alone. Knowing this new beginning He is leading me towards is the plan He has for me.