We're moving. Leaving New York. I don't want to go. When people hear that we are moving they ask my husband if he is insane. You know, they tell him, Iso belongs in New York. They ask me if I think I can stand it. I've lived here my entire adult life. All my friends are here. Every job I've had since college, here. My only living son is here.
My family members take me aside one by one and solemnly grill me to make sure this is not some terrible mistake on my part. I'm not sure I can answer that. I tell myself, it's only a few years. It's only if I can stand it. It's only this or that.
I do my best, I know I agreed to let son have the loft and he's agreed to leave me a bedroom with many returns expected. He needs to be 22. He'll be ok. I look at the cupboard shelf full of teaboxes and tears well up. I have been here this long. My children were born right there in that living room. My son was dying in that same living room. Their father too. On his way to death. So much love and pain has fit into these narrow walls and it's time to let go. It should be easier. It shouldn't be so far. I don't have much choice in this. No other solution would do for my husband. Believe me I offered many. Many.
Fact is: we couldn't move at all if it weren't for me. I have the job, I'm paying for it, I'm the engine of it. It's husband wants, it's what I'm giving him, but I can't tell you what the price will be or who will finally pay it. I don't really care at this point. Something needs to be done. Something needs to change. This is why I took him to Bali. This is why I've agreed to let him move us to Austin. Not because I want to be there. But because right now, my son doesn't need me and I don't know what else to do. Maybe by giving my husband these last years of his mother's life will change things. Maybe by giving my son his freedom he will take charge of his life in ways I can't even anticipate.
It won't kill me to find out. And I can still cry.
Unpacking Someday
2 years ago
So your younger son is already turning 22 - that's got to be a bittersweet birthday. I bet it's weighing just as heavy on him. Your husband's mother is dying? Fill in the blanks here for me, what about your brand new job - it sounded so perfect for you - yet you can pick up and move and still keep it? If so, then I'd say you're doing the right thing.
ReplyDeleteIf it turns out to be a misstep, it isn't irreversible. What's the worst that can happen? You've already experienced that. You can do this.
I'm up ahead of you by several decades and have made my share of these moves, some for family, some for sanity and still others for filthy lucre. And some few for all three. You're carrying everything you need. Don't let others oversell the destination, it's a sweet little town with many charms but it's still a little town in a wasteland. Unreasonable expectations is a trap. Good people live there. Let 'em in. And like all places, bad people live there, too. Keep something back. It's all to the good, sweetheart. Let it in.
ReplyDeleteTopazz, yep, the job is remote/from home, it's about 50% more income than I was making at the old one, the co & my boss think I'm great; I love it. And that's the thing-- it opened up my life in the way that middle aged ladies' lives suddenly open up-- I don't need anyone, I don't have to take care of anyone, I'm free inside. I'm not sure what to do with that. J2 turned 22 in July, and my nephew's fiance turned 22 two days after she disappeared from the face of the earth with nothing but her cell phone. J2 is leaving for Australia the day after Xmas, so I'm sticking around till he gets back, mostly so the loft isn't overrun by roommates. I'm NOT ready for that at all.
ReplyDeleteMichael-- you nailed it. It's exactly what I'm thinking. So much so the tears welled up as I read that.