For those of you who have read Above Tree Line, you know that, at the end of the book, we make the decision to leave Colorado. We decide it is time to move on, to make our home on the Oregon coast closer to one of our grown children. And for those who haven’t yet read the book–well, please read it anyway. This decision is actually a very small part of the journey.
As I write this, I’m in Colorado, in our house, now for sale, across the road from the river you can see in the photo above. It is June. It is green. It is gorgeous. And when I step outside, the fragrance of pine, sun-warmed grasses, and wild-flowers is intoxicating. It takes my breath away.
And I’m thinking, What, oh my God, have we done?
We’ve lived here for 17 years. We have friends, good neighbors, memories. I belong to a church I love. The real estate market in Fort Collins, the closest big town, is booming as people of all ages stream into this wonderful small city nestled against the Rocky Mountains at the far western edge of America’s Great Plains. They want to live here, not move away. Did we make a rash decision to chuck it all and move based solely on one traumatic experience?
Perhaps. Perhaps not. I don’t think we will know until we’ve lived in Oregon awhile. Until we’ve had the opportunity to build a life there by the Pacific Ocean, make friends, and create new memories. So trying to figure out the rightness of our decision is premature.
Inevitably, there comes a time in everyone’s life when a decision is made to leave or end something, so I am not alone in this or in the feelings I am struggling with today. Most of us know what it’s like to leave a marriage, a location, a home, a career, or a project we’ve completed or merely decided to abandon. And to a lesser or greater degree, and usually depending on the magnitude of the decision, we’ve all experienced the variety of feelings that ultimately arise. No, I’m not alone and that in itself brings some comfort.
Like you, I know the Kubler-Ross Model of the five stages of grief–denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance. I know that they mix and match, come and go, are resolved and then return. Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier. I believe the only way to deal with difficult feelings is through them, and gentleness. Gentleness with ourselves and with our situation.
Ultimately, George and I will embrace Oregon while still holding the love and gratitude we have for Colorado, its people and its exquisite landscape. We will be able to do this fully by first allowing ourselves time to grieve that which we are leaving. If we cut short the time of grief, we hinder our healing and our ability to move on.
And, what about you, Dear Reader? Are you at a crossroad in your life? Are you gently and lovingly allowing the feelings that inevitably arise? If we do, we can happily move on. For me, Oregon and the Pacific Ocean are waiting.
Hi Mary
I know this has been a massive decision for you.
Can you give us details of your beautiful house in case someone would like to look at it? Buy it??
Sx
Anyone who wants to buy a beautiful home (with treehouse!) in a magnificent Colorado canyon is welcome to get in touch with me at mmontanye408gmail.com.
Mary, I am definitely in the same pickle. It’s hard when you love a place but feel like it’s time to move on. I think the hardest time is when you are between trapezes…or just getting ready to jump. But there’s no scarcity of wonderful places where we can feel at home and establish satisfying lives for ourselves. I do dread the moment I lock the door and walk away from this place…and then driving by and knowing I’m not allowed inside — ouch.
I know what you mean. Once we leave here, I’m not sure I could ever drive up this canyon again. Thanks for the comment, Sue.
Thanks so much for sharing all of this, Mary. It’s a reminder I really needed today.
So good to hear, Kristin. Your posts often have the same effect on me!
Well said, Mary…..and you are correct.
You never leave behind, what you love. It is always with you, in your head and in your heart.
Until then, I enjoy meeting you in the driveway, and seeing your beautiful smile….and for George…he is a joy also.
Diana
Well, Mary, this is probably just what I needed and at the same time almost wish I hadn’t read it. Mainly because I am at the crossroad with signposts pointing every which way and no direction. Realizing the importance of grieving as you stated was helpful. Perhaps my crossroad right now is a more of a wait station than a crossroad
Great blog, Mary. Keep them coming.
Thank you, Trish. I know what you mean about signposts pointing every which way. Pause and breathe. 🙂
Mary – I am so glad you said “I don’t think we will know until we’ve lived in Oregon awhile.”
Most of life, we don’t know until we have done it. Time to but the myth that any of us can predict the future or know what an outcome will be.
To me, you are fully immersing yourself in the journey and thank you for inviting us along as virtual companions.
You’re exactly right, Roxanne. We can’t know until we’ve made the move and been in it for awhile. And that’s part of the adventure, isn’t it?
Dear Mary….it is so difficult to leave a place you love, but know that there are new things waiting for you on the horizon. It is good to take your time to grieve, to say goodbye. Take your time in letting the process wash over you. There is a saying that helps me when it is time for me to move along. “You never really leave a place you love…part of it you take with you…leaving a part of you behind.”