Sashay Away
How can we dance when our earth is turning? By no means am I comparing my cushy life out West to the plight of the Aboriginal communities and the seriousness of the health and living standards they faced, but I am reminded of the 1987 track by Midnight Oil. This one hit banger criticized how populations were often forcibly removed from their lands. While no one is forcing me, this anthem has been playing on repeat in Bar W this past week as I’m preparing to take a major next step.
The fact is, I’ve always felt unsettled here. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an absolutely gorgeous modern farmhouse. I’m very thankful to have called it home for the past five years. I’ve watched the area explode in growth and development. We were one of the last homes in the first phase and now they are finishing the fifth. A bond was just passed and soon there will be a school, more apartments, and mixed use retail going in.
However, this was a home built out of necessity. For sickness. It served a much needed purpose. Now it’s time to pass it along to another family who can benefit from it’s walls and write their own story. Let it bring them shelter and joy. It belongs to them—a young family just getting started wanting to raise their kids. Not a middle aged isolated bear longing to return to his pack.
The time has come to say "Fair's fair"
To pay the rent, to pay our share
The time has come, a fact's a fact
It belongs to them, let's give it back—Beds are Burning by Midnight Oil
How do we sleep while our beds are burning? This became even more real when I sold the bedroom furniture set. Our bed. It was never my style, but he cherished it. The French Empire collection by Restoration Hardware. Even typing that makes me feel stuffy. Then again, he was always rather conventional and resistant to new ideas. Stubborn as the day is long.
Sleeping on a floor mattress in a completely empty room will motivate you. There’s so much to do! It’s easy to get lost thinking about where you will end up next. More on that later as I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I just embarked on the most self-imposed aggressive timeline ever and there’s no backing down now.
I’m the Perfectionistic Procrastinator, remember?
Our longtime friend and founder of the Austin Men’s Cooking Club reached out to me a few weeks ago. He was checking on me to see how I was holding up, but he also was giving me some sage market advice. I had mentioned to him back in February at the Celebration of Life that I was eventually going to look to sell and make a move back into the city. When he is not cooking up a storm, he is also the co-owner of a residential real estate company here in town.
He noted that school is letting out and we are about to move into the summer season. This is the best time of year to sell. Even though rates are up, families typically wait until now to make a move in order to be settled by the start of the new school year. Unemployment is very low in Austin and we are moving towards a more balanced market which is healthy and needed.
This was exactly the gentle push I needed. I’ve been feeling more isolated lately and ready to make a change. I’m finding that I’m starting to resent the drive in and that’s not the energy I want to channel. Perhaps that is when you know you have arrived at a decision. A cosmic shift in perspective and priority. Besides, there’s no harm in trying during the best window of opportunity, right?
So, I pulled the trigger. He looked at what else is currently for sale in the neighborhood and outlined how long he thought it would take to sell in the current climate. My biggest competition right now is from the builder who is incentivized to move as quick as possible. Luckily for us, my resale is established on the greenbelt with numerous upgrades not available in a stock home.
Once we settled on a list price, the real work began.
We will take all of this at your own pace. You see, he too is a widower having lost his wife to cancer about five years ago. I remember wanting to be there more for him at the time, but our circumstances didn’t allow for that to happen. He understands this process and the undertaking of it all. I’m beyond grateful to have a trusted resource and someone I can be open with about grief. He lost his friend too.
When the time came to sign paperwork, it was like a starter pistol being fired. In order to meet our agreed upon deadline, I had just five days to get the house ready for listing. This meant cleaning, packing non-essentials, depersonalizing, and staging. Oh, and mulching the entire yard for some added fun. Those pictures are worth a thousand words!
I figured, if I’m going to be moving, I might as well start with packing as that’ll have to be done regardless. Once I have a less cluttered space, I can then focus on cleaning and repair. I next spent almost half a day painting over the scuff marks left behind from the careless walker marks of yesteryear. I swear, there were places in the main hallway and master bath that looked like a fucking motor speedway.
I made so many trips to the donation center that I became familiar with the staff. It was a running joke every time I pulled up to drop something off. How could someone fit some much stuff into one little crossover SUV? Years of LEGO® training. More like shear determination to meet my target date and not fail.
Being independent again has taught me that I am a task-oriented person. I enjoy focusing on doing each and every assignment as well as possible. Sometimes when the bigger picture is not so apparent, I can at least be content knowing that I’ve done my best at the duty given to me. One more thing off the list!
Husband, Nurse, Executor.
There is meaning and purpose in completing each of my responsibilities. It puts a priority on being fully present in order to do my best work. As much as I needed that kind push to start, I also needed to go through this exercise alone. Sure, an extra set of hands would have been nice—especially when mulching the yard. But, the final step in my journey is closure.
Memorize the bathwater, memorize the air
There'll come a time I'll wanna know I was here
Names on the doorframes, inches and ages
Handprints in concrete, at the softest stages—Weird Goodbyes by The National ft. Bon Iver
Closure is a funny concept. Some say it isn’t real. I think it’s the process of acceptance. It’ll never mean that I’ve completely forgotten, but it does mean that I’ve returned to a new normal way of life. As much as I’m ready, it will be tough to say goodbye to this chapter.
I’ll never forget the day I drove him away from here. It was the day we placed him into the assisted living facility. He spent a few months there before ultimately ending up in hospice for the final three days. On the drive out of the neighborhood, he started saying goodbye to inanimate objects knowing it was the last time he’d ever see them again.
“Goodbye, Sprinter” he said to the neighbor’s white Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van parked in their driveway. I still think about this moment every time I drive by that fucking van. “Goodbye, mailbox” as if he ever checked the damn thing. “Goodbye, Headwaters” as we drove out of the subdivision for the final time.
These weird goodbyes were his way of processing the gravity of the situation. I did my best to comfort him in the moment, but we both knew there was no coming back. It was a pivotal moment in his progression as well. Call it my unrealistic survivor’s guilt, but the second he left home he gave up.
Heartbreaking.
And so the time has come for me to sashay away. Find my purpose and meaning in my life after loss. I can’t say that I know exactly what that is just yet, but I do know that my priorities have shifted to something new. A new identity outside of the previous role I once filled here.
I’m proud of myself for working hard and reaching my first goal. The listing for Bar W is now live (here) and on the market! I’m physically and emotionally exhausted, but I’ve been taking better care of myself lately. Another goal I’ve been working towards which is already paying dividends. I couldn’t have done this without self-care.
“Goodbye, Headwaters.”
💯