Leaving
I have put this off, probably because I'm avoiding how much it will hurt. Our days in Harrisburg are numbered. Jeff graduates in 5 days, and we will leave this house forever in 3 weeks.
How??? On one hand, it is so mundane and moving along exactly as we've always known and hoped that it would. This graduation month has been part of the plan since before we arrived here. (And I'm so thankful we've reached it without any hangups this time!) But now it's here, and I'm having a hard time processing it.
Today was our last day at church. And last week was our last Moms Club playdate. And before that was Charlotte's last day of preschool. Somehow I've survived them, but there is a growing ache in my heart. How will we say goodbye to Carri and Evan? How will we say goodbye to Betty? How will we drive away from this house?
Oh my heart.
The days are rushing by now. The dates that I've had categorized in my head as "Final Stuff" are beginning to come and go. In 8 days, a team of movers will come to our house and put all of our things in boxes. We have a week left of "normal" until we don't really live here anymore, until we are just nomadic squatters in a dusty house that needs to smell less like cats. As excited as I am about our bright future in Fishersville, we will be leaving a good life and good people behind. There are reasons to grieve - for relationships that can't stay as they are; for all the sweet, daily little familiarities that will suddenly stop; for the abrupt transition of our life here from reality to memory.
Oh the memories. My babies. So many milestones, and so many ordinary days. A thousand meals together at the dining table, a thousand bedtime songs and stories, a thousand diapers, perhaps even a thousand loads of laundry... Dancing, tickling, rough housing in the living room, Saturday snuggling in our bed... Family birthday parties, Christmases, date nights, play dates... Pet chaos, toddler chaos (both kids have been toddlers here)... Pregnancy, waiting to go into labor, bringing Luke home, his first smiles, giggling with him as he learned to eat at the family table, his first steps... Charlotte's tea parties and costumes and books and artwork... Nana and Grandpa visits... Pool and slide and tree climbing and sidewalk chalk in the backyard... All four of us clambering over the blue sink to brush our teeth in our shared bathroom... The surrounding beauty of the landscape, and Pennsylvania's beautiful barns and campgrounds...
I ache to be reminded that this season of our lives is pretty much behind us, that, inevitably, time marches on. My sweet girl is 5 today. Five! So big and self-assured and confident. When we moved here she was still 1, not very different from Luke as he is now. Oh the days she and I had together! Hard, toddler days, but sweet too. I miss the one-on-one time we had together then. She will be going to full-time school two months from now. (AUGH! That is sneaking up too!)
Some life transitions are thrust upon you unexpectedly, and they are certainly hard in their own way. But life changes that come as predicted are hard too, because you know when they're coming, so the grieving starts early and increases as each day passes. So many goodbyes. I don't want to run away from them, but it is hard to be brave enough to acknowledge them and give them the sobriety they deserve. I am afraid of falling apart.
Of course, I am thankful for how well things have gone here and the optimistic future ahead of us. And I have been really touched at how our family is loved. The great turnout at our farewell Moms Club picnic really blessed and affirmed me. And the sweet little reception by our church family at Riverside this morning was full of genuine care for us, even though I have never felt that we have been able to give them as much as we have received.
And finally, I am thankful to be ending these chapters of our lives at a better place with Jeff than when we arrived. We brought so much brokenness with us here in the fallout from Fort Belvoir, and I will forever be grateful to have had a safe place to heal and start over. I am so proud of Jeff!
I should go. I think I need to process this in chunks.
I want to say, "I love you." Honestly not sure who it's directed towards, I guess just a heartfelt wave of gratitude to ripple out into the universe. I hope it helps.
Love,
Melinda
How??? On one hand, it is so mundane and moving along exactly as we've always known and hoped that it would. This graduation month has been part of the plan since before we arrived here. (And I'm so thankful we've reached it without any hangups this time!) But now it's here, and I'm having a hard time processing it.
Today was our last day at church. And last week was our last Moms Club playdate. And before that was Charlotte's last day of preschool. Somehow I've survived them, but there is a growing ache in my heart. How will we say goodbye to Carri and Evan? How will we say goodbye to Betty? How will we drive away from this house?
Oh my heart.
The days are rushing by now. The dates that I've had categorized in my head as "Final Stuff" are beginning to come and go. In 8 days, a team of movers will come to our house and put all of our things in boxes. We have a week left of "normal" until we don't really live here anymore, until we are just nomadic squatters in a dusty house that needs to smell less like cats. As excited as I am about our bright future in Fishersville, we will be leaving a good life and good people behind. There are reasons to grieve - for relationships that can't stay as they are; for all the sweet, daily little familiarities that will suddenly stop; for the abrupt transition of our life here from reality to memory.
Oh the memories. My babies. So many milestones, and so many ordinary days. A thousand meals together at the dining table, a thousand bedtime songs and stories, a thousand diapers, perhaps even a thousand loads of laundry... Dancing, tickling, rough housing in the living room, Saturday snuggling in our bed... Family birthday parties, Christmases, date nights, play dates... Pet chaos, toddler chaos (both kids have been toddlers here)... Pregnancy, waiting to go into labor, bringing Luke home, his first smiles, giggling with him as he learned to eat at the family table, his first steps... Charlotte's tea parties and costumes and books and artwork... Nana and Grandpa visits... Pool and slide and tree climbing and sidewalk chalk in the backyard... All four of us clambering over the blue sink to brush our teeth in our shared bathroom... The surrounding beauty of the landscape, and Pennsylvania's beautiful barns and campgrounds...
I ache to be reminded that this season of our lives is pretty much behind us, that, inevitably, time marches on. My sweet girl is 5 today. Five! So big and self-assured and confident. When we moved here she was still 1, not very different from Luke as he is now. Oh the days she and I had together! Hard, toddler days, but sweet too. I miss the one-on-one time we had together then. She will be going to full-time school two months from now. (AUGH! That is sneaking up too!)
Some life transitions are thrust upon you unexpectedly, and they are certainly hard in their own way. But life changes that come as predicted are hard too, because you know when they're coming, so the grieving starts early and increases as each day passes. So many goodbyes. I don't want to run away from them, but it is hard to be brave enough to acknowledge them and give them the sobriety they deserve. I am afraid of falling apart.
Of course, I am thankful for how well things have gone here and the optimistic future ahead of us. And I have been really touched at how our family is loved. The great turnout at our farewell Moms Club picnic really blessed and affirmed me. And the sweet little reception by our church family at Riverside this morning was full of genuine care for us, even though I have never felt that we have been able to give them as much as we have received.
And finally, I am thankful to be ending these chapters of our lives at a better place with Jeff than when we arrived. We brought so much brokenness with us here in the fallout from Fort Belvoir, and I will forever be grateful to have had a safe place to heal and start over. I am so proud of Jeff!
I should go. I think I need to process this in chunks.
I want to say, "I love you." Honestly not sure who it's directed towards, I guess just a heartfelt wave of gratitude to ripple out into the universe. I hope it helps.
Love,
Melinda