One question that I have seen quite a bit in various widow’s groups is “should I sell the house and start fresh?” Everyone seems to have an opinion on the topic. Some say yes. Some say no. Some say they would but circumstances don’t allow it.
Right out of the chute, I didn’t think that I would want to sell our home. I had a really great support system at the time, and I was very much in love with the little town which I called home.
I did, however, think that I might need a break from those four walls, so I opted for a trip about five hours northeast, to where I used to live, and where my family still lived.
I had only been home just a small handful of times before this visit, and honestly, I was missing it. I never thought I ever would; I had fought tooth and toenail to be able to leave nearly ten years before. But you know what they say, “home is where the heart is” and part of mine was still there.
I was pretty torn, but soon some drama started to rear its ugly head – as it often does after a death. And little by little, some of my support system started fading away.
Mind you, this was only about one month out.
Yes, after one teeny tiny month, things started going south.
I had heard that giving yourself a specific amount of time before making big decisions as a widow was a good idea and I had initially chosen what I had determined to be the bare minimum of three months.
But there I was at the one-month mark longing for my old home, and wanting to run away from all that was going wrong at my current home.
There was a lot to weigh out.
That was the house in which my husband had died.
We were super comfortable in our neighborhood and house.
I had a lot of friends there and even though some of them had started drifting away, I still had plenty more.
But then again, I would have friends and family back home as well. My daughter could actually get to know my family better, as she’d had limited time with them before.
It could be a new start in a home in which my husband hadn’t (content warning) ended his life.
The drama that was making my life hell would be, at least somewhat, left behind.
After yet another trip back to eastern Oregon, I made my decision.
I decided to place my house up for sale and move back to my former home.
My house sold relatively quickly.
A beloved uncle and my dad helped to get my belongings moved across the state, creating a bunch of fun memories for my daughter and me, during a really tough time. I still chuckle when I look at a photo of my uncle cutting an oven pizza with a pair of scissors because my knives were all packed up.
Sometimes I lament the house and town that I left behind but know it was the right decision.
I do question that decision from time to time, but I truly believe that I am meant to be right where I am, at present. I don’t long to leave here anymore like I used to. I have complaints about this place, but nowhere is totally perfect.
Like my mom says, “you have to bloom where you’re planted.” And I seem to be planted right here.
So for me, moving was the right choice. It was a painful one, but necessary.
For others, staying put (blooming where you’re planted?) is the right call.
This is an entirely personal decision and it may not be right for everyone.
But this is a perspective from someone who opted to take the plunge and move away following the death of their spouse.
If you are on the fence about this, perhaps this is your sign?
Whatever you choose – if this is even a consideration for you – trust yourself to know that however you lean, it is the right decision.
I am honestly very glad that I chose the way I did.
In my case, there was no place like home.
Has anyone else made the choice to move? To stay? I’d love to know your thoughts!
(Photo from The Wizard of Oz, via CNN.)
I’m in the decision making process right now. My story is a bit different. My husband and I sold our house in May 2021. We bought a truck and 5th wheel so we could travel the US. We were loving every minute of our adventures. After 5 short months my husband got Covid for the second time and passed away. I was left with this huge truck and home on wheels. I knew it was too much for me to handle alone so I made the tough decision to sell them. Of course that meant I have no home. I am currently living with a friend but it’s only temporary. I’m trying to decide where to live. I need a place of my own to call home. I feel homeless. Home was wherever my husband was. We absolutely loved being together. We had 28 years of a wonderful marriage.
My husband has been gone 5 years now. After he passed I still had to work. After I retired, I decided to move where we talked about retiring too so a year ago I did! It’s been wonderful! No regrets.
I’m happy it’s working out for you! 🙂
I’m happy it’s working out for you! 🙂
It says it’s a duplicate comment?
I am leaning towards moving, but I think it would be so painful to sell our dream house. Before he died my husband said I should move because I wouldn’t be able to keep up the house and property and he’s right. Right now my son is living with me and helping, but no one has the kind of work ethic my husband did. The house and 4 acres and the dock require a ton of work. It was our dream house and we were going to live there forever. 20 years and 10 months was his forever. I love and hate my house both right now. There are happy memories, but sadness hits me around every corner. My daughter and her family live an hour and a half west of me. I’ve been spending time there. I cry when I go home because Michael won’t be there. I guess when and if it’s time I’ll know. In 3 days it will be 5 months. I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary on a mountaintop last Monday.
I really understand your predicament. My husband of 30 years died 2 years ago. I felt the very same way that you do. It’s very difficult to keep up with the house and the acre of grass. Two of my children live about 70 miles from me. I go to visit them, but I can’t wait to get back home. And then when I walk in the door, the emptiness and silence overwhelm me. I struggle with the decision to move. It would be easier for my kids to help me if I move, but I would miss my friends and my church.
I wish I could tell you that it gets easier, but it doesn’t–maybe a little less painful.
Thank you so much for sharing, Seth. I really appreciate it. I couldn’t ask for a better brother-in-law than you. Your pain is also something I can’t imagine. You were dealt a really crappy hand in all of this. I hope you always know that I am here for you. And thank you again, for reading and commenting. I love you.
I’m not sure if this is the right place for this, and if this is too personal please feel free to remove it.
Thank you for letting me into your private thoughts, I’ve learned more about you, the person you genuinely are and the heart that you have, only after the loss we had to endure, together but obviously very privately & alone in our own minds, as well. Obviously when one goes through something like this, it makes you reevaluate everything that you had prioritized prior to the loss. It makes us mature very quickly, mentally and emotionally, on levels that we never knew existed, certainly that we had never experienced, not like this. The wisdom one gains through tragedy opens one’s eyes in verbally indescribable ways. What had mattered in life, at least for me, changed drastically. I know there are many people who show so much more pain than I do for what I’ve gone through; the loss of my brother was the loss of my hero since childhood. I wanted to play guitar as well as him, I wanted to play the drums like he could, I wanted to be able to ride a motorcycle as good as him, hang wheelies flying down the highway at 100 miles an hour, perfectly balanced, no problem, with a passenger on the back to boot. I wanted to be able to drive a car the way that he could, doing 360s, pulling emergency brake 180’s, popping the clutch and burning out of them. I wanted the guts to go skydiving and bungee jumping, I wanted to be just like him, bigger than life, beyond brilliant, amazing, my hero, my big brother. This drastic, brutal change was made so abruptly for me, and I’m sure for many others, what I had thought mattered so much, I don’t even think of anymore. I don’t even know what it was. As each day passes, I remember less & less who I used to be. I look at old pictures and I barely recognize that person. I believe our family have all become different people in a way. My loss was a double tragedy, my brother and dad within 6 months of each other.
A very tough person, that’s how friends & family have always portrayed me to be. Tough as nails, as my dad would put it. Lifting weights & boxing, whatever a “tough guy” is, alone I break down and and cry uncontrollably. It’s taken about 2 years to sink in, to fully absorb the loss, and this happens all too often lately. I’m sure things that mattered to you before, are on a different level than they are for me, they must be. Your loss, any widow’s loss is something that I will never know. I was Bret’s little brother, it’s different for everybody depending on the relationship they had with the one they lost. I commend you for being so open about this and letting others know your emotions, and that they’re okay to have. I especially commend you on taking care of my niece, she’s braver than I thought anyone could be. And you were forced to be strong for her right away. Thank you for being such a great mom to my niece. I worry about her, I have tried to put myself in her shoes, at her age, and males and females react to things differently as well. So I don’t know her pain or your pain, just what we talk about. What matters to me now is you. My niece. My nephew. My stepmom & a couple of my very closest friends. Regan and grandmother were very close. I was thoroughly blown away though, when he stepped in for me to be a pallbearer at her funeral, when I couldn’t be there, that’s what she would have wanted without a doubt. And Jon, when I was unable to be there, he drove to my dad’s house all the time to take him different medicines and help him out in any way he could, Jon had just lost his own mother to the exact same disease. Obviously that made me realize what level of friendship we had attained over the years, the ironclad strength of that bond. Us three now refer to each other as brothers, we are family now. And I see, obviously now -that we always were. I love you Layla Beth, you are my sister and you always will be. I love Vellie, I love Wyatt, and I realize time is so much more precious than I could have ever imagined. Tell the people you love that you love them. Tell them now, tell them just how much they mean to you. 🙏♥️