Home is where our loved ones are. Until they aren’t.
Home was 503 Olive in Magnolia, Arkansas for my first 18 years of life. Once Mama and Daddy died, it was just a house that I was eager to be rid of – even the memories seemed to be gone. They’d moved on – into my heart, and into their things that were now in my adult home.
People tried to blast me out of Houston, Texas for 42 years. Job offers, relationship offers, interesting places to live – nothing enticed me from my adopted home.
Until Michael Farrell Powell held out his hand and said, “C’mon, darlin – life’s too short. Come with me. Doesn’t matter where we are, as long as we’re together.”
And that’s all it took. A friend of mine once said about her husband – “I’d follow that man anywhere.” I never understood that – until Mike came back into my life. Wherever Mike was, that was home.
When I walked into our home in Coffman Cove this summer, my knees literally buckled in grief. It was just as we’d left it in October. Mike was everywhere – he took my breath away. But as the summer went on, it became our home again, in a very different way. And it was good. Mike watched over me all summer. And the community of friends who I love so much helped me start my healing process.
Now I’m back home in Dover. I got rid of all the medical stuff and anything related to Mike’s cancer before I left in June. But Mike is still everywhere here, in every corner. I left for the summer in a hurry, and it shows. The house needs to be set up again. The suitcases unpacked. Every single place I look needs cleaning, picking up, redoing. It will take time. It will take tears. It will take love.
Because now it’s my time to take Mike’s and my world – the world that we made home – and adjust it. To keep Mike’s memory in our home. To continue making the improvements we were working on. To keep putting it together and building on it. To keep unpacking, for heaven’s sake. We only had six weeks here before cancer hit and put everything on hold. The to-do list is long, and both Mike’s and my tasks are on it.
Home is where our loved ones are. And if they are no longer physically present, they live rich, full lives right here in our hearts.
And in the end, home is where WE ourselves are, all on our own…at 62.
At 62 