The last night- part two

I am about to go to bed in my little townhouse for the last time. I cannot begin to fathom not living here. It has been my home for much of my adult life. I was 23 years old when we bought it and moved in. Remember Trading Spaces? I was a huge fan, and allowed it to influence me to paint my walls a rainbow of colors. I was most excited because owning my own place meant I could adopt my own puppy. Koda came into our lives two months after we moved in. Thank goodness she's with us to move on to the next adventure.

We had some great parties here. There are great memories of friends laughing hysterically in this house. At one such event, I remember Eric rolling on the floor in fits of giggles. It is an especially precious memory.

This is the home where I brought my two precious newborns. Where I went from an insecure young woman to a thirty-something finding her way. Where my marriage grew from the status of newlyweds to that of being an old married couple. This place is where I studied to get my master's degree. It is where I have hosted family dinners, and learned to really cook. I have had some of my most fantastic moments here, and some of my most painful.

When I walk out the door tomorrow, for the last time, I'm not sure how I'll feel. We still don't know for sure that we have a house to move into. We are packing a truck and driving to Salida, with our destination as of yet unknown. We hope that it will be the house we have wanted all along. But right now, there is no guarantee.

Today, I had the opportunity to spend time with some of my dearest friends. I walked away from those meetings wondering why I made the choice to leave. So much of my life is here. But I think what I figured out is that the city leaves me too busy to live this life. I felt stretched thin much of the time, and wishing for more hours to spend on the things that matter the most.

I think, though I will be farther away, I will be more at peace. And I will have more time and energy to devote to connecting to those I love- both near and far. Let the next step begin.

The last night

Tonight is supposed to be the last night that our little family of 4 is separated. Tomorrow, Brian comes home, and Sunday we are scheduled to load up the truck and drive to Salida. The weeks of being apart from my partner are supposed to be done. Of course, what is supposed to be, and what actually is, may differ a bit.

I cannot think of a time in my life during which I have had such constant stress. The ups and downs are frequent. One minute you've sold your townhouse and have purchased the home of your dreams, and the next, it may not happen at all. And then I think, we chose this. We chose to put ourselves through this. What the hell were we thinking?

When I dove into this journey, I thought I had to face 5 weeks of single parenting. Now I am nearing the end of week 7. I did not believe I could do it. Yet, I have done it. And while doing it, I survived the sale of my house falling through, relisting and reselling it.

The really beautiful thing is that I have not been alone. Time after time, my village shows up to hold me up and help me through. When we had to put our house back on the market, my house was full of helpers, getting it back into show shape. My mom and I cleaned for 16 hours that day. And it paid off, when we were back under contract in a matter of days.

Now, we are facing another possible setback. And the outpouring of support is incredible. Tonight, my Nana said, "there is always a solution." And I think there is. It will all be alright. We have enough people who are here for us, who believe in us, that we will get through any bump in the road.

As far as my time with my girls these last seven weeks, adventure is the name of the game. We still haven't figured out a good bedtime routine without Daddy around, so they are often up later than they should be. But, Kinnie Lin has learned to sleep in until 7! This is a miracle in itself. We have been to the pool a lot. And we took our little road trip. We've had a sleep over at Ninnie and Pops'. And visited the zoo. We have snuggled, and we have wrestled. We've taken a lot of long walks, and when we first started this process, I struggled to lift Ellie Claire onto my back in the backpack- now, it's no problem.

I am stronger, in a lot of different ways. I know that I can face what life brings. With a little help, of course.

Lessons

I turned a 7.5 hour drive into a 10.5 hour drive today. My girls and I meandered through the hills of Utah and Wyoming before cruising into Denver. I've never done a road trip quite in that fashion. But it was a beautiful day, and as I reflected on the loss of Eric, I was reminded of what is truly important in life.

During the beginning of the drive, I swear Eric had control of the mix my ipod was playing. From songs we used to dance to in the bar, to bands we saw and loved, song after song reminded me of him. And I was reminded that it's time to slow down. So the girls and I stopped at a park in Rock Springs. But its playground was inferior, so we went searching for a better one. We found a park with a playground and sprayground, so I pulled the luggage out of the car, got the girls changed into swimsuits, and played in the water. We didn't have a towel to dry off after, but that didn't seem to matter. Three hours later, we did it all again in Laramie. My girls were happy, and the kind of wonderful tired that comes from fun in the sun. And my heart was full.

See, all the things that we hurry for, all the things that we think are so important, aren't really. Whatever the reason for my rush the day I didn't stop to give Eric a hug can't have ultimately mattered at all. But I get caught up. I think most of us do. And it is times like these when I remember that all that really matters to me are my people- my family, both blood related and chosen.

I miss Eric a lot. There is a void in this city. But to have known him... well, that was a blessing.

My friend, Eric

My friend Eric died yesterday. His death was so unexpected. I would have never guessed that the last time I gave him a hug would be the last time. 

He worked at the animal hospital where I spent 6 years of my twenties. I remember that he was a bit shy, at first, but soon his true colors shone through. He had headphones on as often as he could, and it turned out we shared a love of rock music. When a show would come through town, we'd make plans to go, or I'd envy him as he decided to go, even if the tickets had to go on a credit card. We would trudge through the long workdays together, along with the rest of the Belcaro family. His laugh was fantastic, and is still so clear in my mind. 

A group of us began to spend more and more time together outside of work, and Eric was always there. I remember going out to Benny's Mexican for a birthday, and after one margarita, Eric fell asleep at the table. I laughed so hard. He was always a lightweight, and always game to party. 

Whenever I was sad, or struggling, I knew Eric felt my struggle, too. He'd give hugs, and try to be there in any way he could. He provided candy galore, and I know that on more than one occasion, I helped myself to his work drawer that was full of snacks. He always said he didn't mind. Because that's the kind of person he was.

As my time to move on from Belcaro came, Eric remained a part of my life. We spent birthdays together, and came up with lots of other reasons to celebrate. Of course, I saw Eric every time I took one of my dogs in to Belcaro, which was frequent. Always, he had a hug for me, and an update about his life. He lived some great adventures in his 40 years.

The last time I was at Belcaro, picking up meds for my dogs, I saw Eric on the lawn walking a dog. I thought about stopping to say hi, to give a hug, and to wish him well. But, I had my two fussing girls with me, and a million things to do. So I didn't turn the corner to go see him, but just went on my way. I figured there would be a million other chances. How I wish I had not taken that moment for granted.

I think Eric had no idea how loved he was. How cherished. He was nonjudgmental, loyal, genuine, heartfelt, funny. He was the best kind of friend. He was accepting, and overlooked my faults. He was a beautiful person. I hope that wherever he is now is as amazing as he is. I wish I could tell him. I wish I could give just one more hug.

Rest in peace, my friend. You will be remembered fondly for as long as I live. I love you.