So my husband suddenly dies in March 2018 from a massive heart attack, and my life is now all about moving on and moving forward. At least that’s what everyone told me I had to do. Well what if I didn’t want to move forward? What if I wanted to stay in my home of 25 years, where we raised our two beautiful daughters and it’s the only home they’ve ever known? What if I contemplate staying in this home because my husband had two insurance policies that I knew would cover the funeral, house expenses, and my kid’s college education. So what if I just stay where I am? And then what if I find out my husband did not cover his last insurance premium and two weeks after his death, I find out the insurance company will not honor payment of his plan that he paid into for over 20 years because he missed the grace period by a few days (perhaps because he died within the grace period?) And then I realize I cannot stay in my home and have to sell it within a couple of months because we are months behind on the mortgage payment as well as other bills, which I find out about after my husband’s death. So what happens? I move on and I move forward.
Six months later, I am now moved on and forward, but I’m not quite sure, as of yet, where I have landed. All I know is that I did bury my husband, did sell my home, moved to a smaller apartment, stored 90% of my life in a 10’ by 12’ storage unit, secretly smuggled my three cats into my new apartment, pushed my daughters into a ‘shared space’ (God help me!) and found myself in a bedroom where I had to cut off the headboard in order for my bed to fit. I also have a dog (landlord was ok with the dog) who still can’t figure out where he is, and waits by the door to go “home”.
On the good side, however, and yes there is a good side, my daughters are adjusting. They recently told me that they didn’t think it could happen, but they feel “comfortable” in the new place and now allow their friends to visit. Still not happy with sharing a room, one of them moved down to the basement. So there is another good thing—the apartment has a basement.
A few other “good” things: Our apartment is located near the LIRR, which is good for me, since I’ll be working for the next umpteenth years. It’s also near the beach and boardwalk which is helping the healing process, but don’t worry about my therapist, she feels in the blanks when it’s raining. And let’s not forget my kids—they are happy that our location is also just minutes away from the “happening” bar and restaurant scene. Another healing process!
So six months ago, my life fell apart, and six months later, my kids and I are piecing back together, slowly but surely. Of course, there is much more to this story, as there always is, but you get the picture. Life does go on no matter what befalls us. It is the nature of the human spirit—yes to move on and move forward. And hopefully, sometime soon, even my dog will do the same and come to call our new place “home.”