Goodbye Tennessee

I closed on the sale of my house a few weeks ago. To try and put into words what I felt like when I signed those papers seems an impossible task. I felt, deeply, every possible emotion; sadness, excitement, anxiety, anger, fear, loss, relief. I know that you’re not supposed to get attached to a house because there will always be other houses (and of course there will be) but I think it’s hard not to become attached to what the home meant to you. It was my first home and it was perfect…it had everything I wanted: a little land, peace and quiet, big trees and lots of room to grow….and I had purchased it myself which I still consider one of my better achievements. So many wonderful memories were created there and some sad ones, too. Although even the sad memories don’t seem that bad looking back. Who am I kidding? Sad is sad, we just forget how bad the pain was as time goes on. Isn’t that always the way it seems; like maybe you remember it wrong? In reality though you’re remembering it wrong backwards. You aren’t remembering it as it was correctly, but instead recalling an incorrect, duller version of it. Anywho…I had intended to grow old in that house…or at the very least, celebrate my 35th birthday with a big party full of laughter and love and cake (can’t forget the cake)! But alas, that was not in the cards for me…and I suppose that’s ok.

Don’t get me wrong, it was 100% my decision to sell my house. I struggled hard with the choice at first but I knew I needed to do something…something needed to change and when Joy and Hans offered me this once in a lifetime opportunity, it became clear which path I must take. Still, pulling out of that driveway for the last time brought up emotions I knew were coming but insisted on taking me by surprise anyway. I felt a little bit like a failure. I felt a profound sadness for the improvements that were planned but will now never be completed. I felt a little empty. I said goodbye to the cherry tree in the front yard which was planted in memory of the most beloved pet to ever grace the earth (planted with his ashes actually) and I apologized for leaving him. On the other hand though, I knew this was the last big hurdle to clear before starting the first part of my adventure and for that, I was thankful to the wonderful couple who purchased the home. May they have many joyful memories there too.

Then I had to say goodbye to the other most beloved pet on the planet, my Sadie Girl, a big goofy American Bulldog who knows nothing but love and fun and can always be counted on to lift you up when you’re feeling down with one of her kisses. I left her with Aaron who I know will take extra good care of her; he loves her as much as I do…but dammit if I didn’t cry like a baby trying to tell her that I was not abandoning her and that I would come back for her. Being a dog, I’m not sure she understood but she gave me that look that breaks every fur-mommy’s heart when I gave her one last hug and turned to leave.

I then said goodbye to Aaron…the one with whom I had intended to scream at and laugh with and become utterly tired of while making all those aforementioned improvements that will now never be. It wasn’t easy, in fact it outright sucked, and I know it was hard for him too; watching me leave like that. Knowing that I was going on an adventure that was as sure to change me as the sun is sure to rise in the morning. Eight years is a long time to be with someone and I would imagine watching me go off to do something I’ve always dreamed of doing was somewhat bittersweet. Even though we didn’t work out the way we thought we would, there was real love between us and there still remains a deep caring for the others’ wellbeing and happiness. He knows I have to go and refuses to stand in my way, so he put on a brave face and wished me luck as I drove off, promising to take good care of Sadie and himself.

Within days, I had to say goodbye to a small group of friends who helped me to find my strength again and reminded me that we all have to take risks in order to grow as people in the wake of the outcomes, whatever they may be. Geesh, all these hard goodbyes. Do they ever stop or get less heartbreaking? Perhaps somewhere within each painful goodbye lies a chance to discover (or remember) what we’re made of. A chance to learn to put your own needs above the needs of someone else or vice versa. A chance to discover the freedom of letting go. I’m still a work in progress when it comes to each of these concepts but I hope that everyone I’ve had to say goodbye to as I embark on this journey will find peace in knowing that I am thankful for having something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

The drive back to my hometown allowed me a solid eleven hours to reflect. There was a little laughter, a lot of tears and an overall sense of change and wonderment. What a strange place to find myself at this age. I don’t know what I will do upon my return; where I will live, what choices I might make but I know that the only way for me to be wholeheartedly secure in whatever my choices may be is for me to accept that while I may not be in total control my own destiny, I can be willing and ready to find peace and contentment wherever the winds may blow me.