When they put up the “for sale soon” sign in our front yard, it was a surprise, even though I knew it was coming. The divorce settlement was being finalized and we had signed the contract to put the house up for sale on April 1. The sign seemed to symbolize a finality on something that had taken almost two years to wring out.  Yes, this was actually happening. This was the reality.  

We bought the house 19 years ago. Our son was 10 months old at the time and our daughter wasn’t even a twinkle. My almost ex-husband had started his job that April and we sold our house in Dallas to move here. The house was a little pricier than what we initially wanted to spend, but the location was perfect - near a beautiful park, close to work and a good school, centrally located with tons of trees and a big yard. It was worth it. It needed some work, but we could do some cosmetic things and eventually, if we decided to stay long-term, we could remodel. Which we did seven years later when we could afford it. Our daughter came home to this house after being born. There was hope, laughter and dreams in this house. There was also tension, doubt, sadness, and hopelessness. It is sometimes difficult to reconcile both sides of the house’s reality, and yet both are true.

Endings are both sad and joyous. There is a mourning and grieving of what was and what could have been. There is the facing of truths of what really wasn’t there to begin with. There is the excitement of looking toward the future, knowing that an ending can bring new life and something bigger and brighter. And to get there it’s important to acknowledge, feel and honor the grief of what you are leaving behind.

I cried when I saw the for sale sign in the front yard. I cried for our marriage that for so many years wasn’t what I thought it was and tried desperately to fix, not knowing or believing it wasn’t fixable. I cried for my kids who spent their childhoods in this house and will also have their own grief to experience. I cried for my dogs who would wonder what happened to their big yard.  I cried for the good memories and the bad memories. For love lost, despair, and for times that had beauty. 

I let myself grieve and mourn and start to say goodbye to this part of my life so that I could move on to what was possible.

It’s ok to cry and grieve the life you leave behind, even if the life wasn’t great, or what you thought it was. Even if it was beautiful and big and bold - and yet also time to go. Grieving and mourning are essential to move to forward, while recognizing and honoring your past experiences, no matter what they were.

I soon will be looking for a new house with my daughter. I soon will be starting on an exciting, somewhat scary and also liberating new phase of life. The kids will still have a place to come home to. The dogs will still have a place to run and play. Grieving the house and what it symbolized helped me realize I still have a home. There still is love - the only difference is the location.

What are you grieving in order to move forward? How are you grieving? What do you have in place to begin the small steps to also to celebrate your new course in life?