back to our old house

The day after tomorrow, we go back to our house.

I can’t properly explain the mix of emotions I feel, though my excitement is what’s usually shining through the most. I really, truly am so excited to go cosplay my old life for a week. One last time. Will moments of it be tortuous? Sure. Will the week be long and grueling? Emotionally and physically draining? Yes and yes. But since the last chapter of my life ended so abruptly, I’d like the chance to re-read it again before I move on with the book.

Axl and Ford can sleep in their own beds, in the rooms that Pete and I put so much time into crafting and perfecting for them. They can take baths in their tub. I can sit on my own back patio, turning the twinkle lights on with my phone. I can have a beer with the neighbors, see my friends, order takeout, watch cable. Axl can climb the playground Pete designed and built alone by hand. I can wash my laundry in my own house, with detergent Pete bought. I’ll use my ice machine and make whole pots of coffee and use shredded zucchini that we spent an afternoon together prepping and freezing. The whole week is going to feel like one giant hug from Pete. 

I am going to spend the week packing up, just me and the boys, to prepare for movers to come next Sunday. The house will close on Tuesday. I can tell everyone thinks I’m a little crazy for doing this, but I also think they all understand why I’m insisting on doing it. The last time I insisted I would be fine alone in that house taking care of both kids, it was only 2 weeks after Pete died and I had been very wrong. I spent the week staring at the walls and struggling deeply to do the most basic tasks. I was not strong enough then to handle it. But I’ve been spending the last 6 months growing and changing and getting steady on my feet. I can handle it now. After everything I’ve been through, revisiting the house and packing up while chasing after my kids feels like a vacation.

I feel really lucky to get a chance to say goodbye. In my own way, on my own terms. I feel so blessed to get to do this from a healthy, starting-to-heal place. I never wanted to pack up the place in a fury of pain. I didn’t want it to feel like I was running away from something, which is how initially leaving felt. We all packed me up and got out of there like I was on fire. But I’m smoldering now; I’m cooling. I’m going to take my time packing up these memories and soaking up the time I’ll have with my kids in that house.

And, like everything else, it will feel foreign to do it without Pete. Every phase of babyhood for Ford has felt like that. The last time I had an 8 month old, I was parenting with Pete. Every milestone, every hand-me-down, every babyism, reminds me of him and how amazing it was to parent with him. It’s sad. But it’s okay that it’s sad. Going to the house and saying goodbye is certainly going to be sad. But I’m learning, slowly, that “happy” isn’t the only good emotion. Sadness, grief, loneliness, fear… I am finding them just as cleansing as joy now that I’ve actually given myself space to try them all on. 

Pete won’t be there to help me take the crib apart, or clean out the garage, or pack boxes. He won’t be able to tell me what I should keep and what I should send to the dump. He won’t be able to remind me about garbage night or tell me which drill to use. He won’t be there to lock up at night or tuck the kids into bed or kiss me goodnight. He won’t be there when Ford sleeps in his crib all night or see how high Axl will climb in the yard. I won’t be able to ask him how to rescue the plants, whether I can salvage any of the annuals and bring them to Vermont with us. I hate all of that. 

I don’t really know anything about the buyers except for the little I was able to stalk them on Facebook. They seem like a sweet, young couple. They’re first time homebuyers. They might get married while they live in that house. They might bring babies home from the hospital in it like I did. They might get along swimmingly with the neighbors and end up attending all their porch parties. They might have fires on the patio; hang their own twinkle lights. I sincerely hope they do. I never thought I would feel this open to the idea of passing along this house to someone new. I thought I’d feel as if I was passing on some sort of curse. What if tragedy struck while I was there and it would strike for them too? But now that the time is here, I don’t feel that way. I legitimately feel so happy for them and thrilled that they loved the house that Pete personalized for us so well that they wanted to buy it. He had his hands on every part of that house, and he put so much love into it. And everyone who has seen it has really loved it, too. I’m so proud of him for that. I’m proud of the home he turned that place into for us. I’m sad to leave it, but I’m so glad someone else will be enjoying it.