I Have Never Been Great at Goodbyes

A long, long time ago, we bought a house . . . and we turned it into a home.

This old house has sheltered us through all the seasons, bearing witness to laughter and tears, to joys and sorrows, to deaths and births, to weddings and anniversaries. It is the only home our children knew growing up. It provided sanctuary for them and their many friends from pre-school through university . . . and sanctuary too to five dogs, one cat, a lizard, a turtle and too many fish to count.

I wrote twenty-five books here, hundreds and hundreds of articles, countless school notes and at least 1600 shopping lists. My babies came home to this house. They took their first steps and spoke the first of many, many words (much to the chagrin of many, many teachers). They had chicken pox and sleep overs, their first jobs, their first loves, their first cars (and with the latter came my first gray hairs).

This house birthed me too – as a mother, as a writer, and as a gardener. And today, though the garden is deep in winter slumber, I see roses blooming and kiwis hanging low. I smell sweet peas climbing up the side of the greenhouse, see the heron swooping in to steal fish in the pond, hear the laughter of the kids as they whisper secrets to their besties, and the laughter of my love as we sip our wine and watch the sun set on warm summer nights.

The sun is setting on our time here. In a few days we will turn out the lights and shut the door for the last time. We will put Team Sheltie in the car, climb behind the wheel and we will drive away. We’re moving to a smaller community several hours from here, a place we’ve visited often, a place we love. We haven’t found a home there yet, at least not a permanent one, but hopefully we will soon.

We aren’t being pushed to leave by anything other than an inner knowing that it’s the right thing to do. It took us a couple of years to come to this, after many discussions and a great deal of thought. Our neighborhood has changed, we have changed and, with the kids grown and gone, our family dynamic has changed. It’s simply time. That said, it is much, much harder than I ever thought it would be.

There’s a saying that pops up on social media occasionally: Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. It’s good advice, sound and solid. But the fact is I am absolute shit at goodbyes. Never have aced them. And, yes, I know we’ll take our memories with us – people offer that up as if it’s some sort of consolation – but it’s no consolation at all and it doesn’t touch even a corner of my sadness.

This isn’t just the closing of a chapter, it’s the closing of a book. The story of our time in this house is over. And the new book, the new story, that important first chapter, hasn’t yet been written.

Right now, my heart is full to nearly breaking. Smiles are out of the question. My fountain of tears, as Mr. Petrol Head calls it, is perpetually running. But as teary as I am, there is one thing that makes it this process a little easier.

New owners are poised – eager even – to move in.

We’re leaving them a welcome letter, telling them a little about the history of the house and garden, their new neighbors (they will have wonderful neighbors!) and a few of the quirks that old houses inevitably have. It will be fun for them to discover what life here has to offer. Knowing that lightens my sadness.

It reminds me a little of sharing a book. You can only read a book for the first time once. No matter how much you love it, you can’t go back and experience that freshness, that joy of discovery, again. But you can pay it forward and share the book with another reader, taking solace in the fact that they’ll love it too. That the story will live again through them.

I know we can’t go back. Time goes forward and so do we. How fitting that we’re leaving the past behind at the start of a new year.

A long, long time ago, we bought a house . . . and we turned it into a home.  And though we’re saying goodbye and leaving this old place behind, it will be filled with love and laughter and life long after we’re gone. It will stay a home. And for that I’m grateful.

8 thoughts on “I Have Never Been Great at Goodbyes

  1. Wow! A beautifully written post. As you said, you bought a house and created a beautiful home. And how wonderful that the new owners are poised and ready to move in.

    As I’ve discovered lately, life is about embracing change as difficult as that can be at times.

    I wish you health and happiness in your new community. Exciting days lie ahead as you explore that area.

    Happy 2019.


    1. You’re so right, Jodie. Life is all about change and we feel good being proactive rather than having that change thrust upon us. Happy 2019 to you as well!

  2. Laura, what a beautiful tribute to the home you are leaving and the life you lived there. I’m sure there have been, and still are, many tears being shed, but I am also excited for this new phase in your life. The house yet to be found that you will turn into a home, will bring new adventures and be a birthplace for a whole new schwack of memories!

    1. Thanks, Gail. You’re right, we’re off on a new adventure and it is exciting. Or it will be once we close the door and shed the last few tears here. I am looking forward to creating new memories, new gardens and a new home!

  3. I very much enjoyed reading your blog, what a wonderful story of your journey. It brought tears! You will enjoy this new chapter, be patient and give it time, you will find your new special home. -your story reminds me of when John and I after 21 years, gave up a Very special home in Ontario and the loss and sadness of letting it go…. A few years later, we’re starting our new chapter! Best to you, Eva

    1. Thanks for visiting my blog, Eva, and for your kind words. Your experience gives me hope that we’ll find our next perfect home too. And I’m so glad you’re enjoying your new chapter!

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