I got rid of everything after my wife died.
I sold my house. I gave away all of our belongings. I sold our cars. Then I put everything left into a pickup truck and 6x8ft camper and drove out West to live in the middle of nowhere on public lands.
Two months later, I drove back across across the country to make my home in Raleigh, NC.
It has been 2 years since Ellen died. Just like week, I realized
“Of course I got rid of everything and ran away…that’s what I do.”
It started when I was 7 and we moved to Pittsburgh. One day, we were living in Tamaqua, my hometown where I, my mother, my grandparents, my great grandparents, all of my friends and everyone I knew came from. The next day, I was living in Swissvale, a dirty run down “suburb” of Pittsburgh, surrounded by strange people, unfamiliar places and knowing nobody. Although I visited Tamaqua for vacations over the next 10 years, I had effectively been cut off from everything I loved there.
Four years later, after making friends, getting into the Gifted Program in school and getting comfortable with Swissvale, my mother remarried and we moved to Manchester (the ghetto) in the middle of a school year. New school, new neighborhood, new house, new kid, no friends… once again. I never spoke to anyone from Swissvale again.
Three years after that, we moved again the summer before I was to start high school. New school, no friends, new neighborhood, new kid…again. Everything I knew in Manchester was cut off.
After high school, my friends and I all parted ways. I was focused on earning good grades in pre-med, my girlfriend and wrestling. My high school friends had moved away, gotten jobs or partied when I was studying. I rarely ever saw them.
Then I met my wife. I left my part of town and moved in with her across town, immediately becoming part of her family, her social circle and her life. Everything from before was dropped out of my life.
Ten years later we moved to Florida. We sold our house, had a farewell party with our friends and family, gave away a bunch of stuff and didn’t look back.
Over the years, I counted more than 23 relocations, over a dozen jobs and countless friends/acquaintances/neighbors/coworkers that were left behind and never heard from again.
I don’t regret this.
When I hear of people who stayed in the same home or job for decades, I sometimes imagine what that would be like to have consistency, deep roots and security.
But, I intentionally chose to pursue a different path. For me, part of that required making clean breaks from the past.
Naturally I did the same thing after Ellen died when I was slammed by wave after wave of grief.
What else would I do? It’s ingrained in me.
I wish I would have done things a bit differently after Ellen died. I could have saved a bunch of aggravation and money. I would not have given away everything. I might still have traveled and would have sold the house, but I would have been more careful and logical in my approach.
Then again, I might have just shot myself in the head.
All things considered, I am OK with the choices I made – even those that turned out to be wrong.