In addition to retiring in a little over a month, I’m getting ready to relocate my life. The plan is that I will move to be with my family in Queens, New York. We have talked about this for years and it’s hard to believe that it’s almost time to make it happen. I’m grateful that my daughter, and especially my son-in-law, are okay with this. As a single person, it doesn’t make much sense for me to stay in Maryland or move anyplace else without family nearby. And I’ve always had this longing to live close enough to my grandchildren that I could become a part of their lives, and they would be able to really know me. This is something that neither I nor my children ever had the opportunity to experience, and I want this for Nick and Justin.
The plan is for us to live together in the same house with a separate space for me where I can have my own privacy, and I won’t be constantly annoying Gretchen and Jon (or vice versa). I can offer an extra hand with the boys, and they will be nearby to help me as I continue to go downhill in the years ahead. (I'm obviously getting the better end of the bargain.)
Jon and Gretchen have been renting in NY, so this means purchasing a home. Of course, I’m also selling my home in Maryland. That’s been easy. I put it on the market and it sold immediately. But as buyers, Jon and Gretchen have faced one challenge after another since they started looking back in March. They’ve extended offers on a number of houses that have gone nowhere. One was accepted only to have someone else come along and offer more money, and that was the end of that. Right now, they’re moving quickly to get a house they’ve fallen in love with. I’m praying with my fingers crossed as I hold my breath. I hope this is it. I have to say that I’m beyond proud of the way they’ve persisted; they’ve learned a lot along the way and are determined to succeed.
I’ve also had some reckoning of my own to work through. I always knew that I would have to divest myself of a lot of my possessions to make this move. I began getting rid of stuff during the pandemic, selling some and flat out giving a lot away. But it wasn’t enough. I’m coming to terms with the reality that I’m going from 2000 sf to something more like 300 sf. That means that pretty much everything I own must go. I know a lot of older people come to this point, if they live long enough, but I wasn’t ready for it quite this soon. I keep telling myself that it’s just stuff, and I will finally have the opportunity to live a simpler lifestyle. Yes, I can do this.
Throughout my life, it’s been like a death every time I’ve moved, leaving behind my life and the people I loved who were a part of it. It’s a gut-wrenching trauma that I suspect has taken years from my life every time I've gone through it. This time is a bit more than that for me. I’m not just leaving behind a congregation of people I love. I’m leaving behind a way of life, the only way of life I’ve ever known as an adult. As ready as I am, I know it’s going to be hard for me, and a part of me is already grieving. But, on top of that, there’s this moving thing going on. Literally leaving behind tables, chairs, beds, pictures, books, dishes, linens… stuff that I’ve been lugging from one place to another my whole life. It’s a lot to say good-bye to.
I've also learned, every time I've moved and started over, that resurrection always follows the time of death, and the grieving gives way to joy. I know that's the way it works. I’m praying that I will have the grace I need to let go and enough faith to trust in the gift of new life that always seems to find me on the other side. Experience has taught me that I have every reason to believe my prayer will be answered.
