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You are going to have to cut me some slack as I try to get this post out of my head, where it has resided for several days now, and into words. This past week has been particularly challenging for our family. How is this different than the challenges that we have faced with Owen's health in the last year, you may ask? A week ago today our family learned a lesson about loss that no one should have to learn. Of course Wes and I as well as my parents and sister have experienced loss before, just not like this.

I am very sensitive to this in my own life and the lives of those close to me: each person experiences grief differently, just as each loss is a different experience. I was going to dedicate an entire post to what happened, but frankly I can't. I also don't want to get into too much detail because I don't think it is appropriate or necessary. Please do not interpret this as a lack of empathy or grief on my part. It is just a private issue, about which my personal feelings are all that I feel comfortable sharing.
Many of you know that my dad owns a business. Wes and Ashley work there. My mom also works there on a part-time, as needed basis. I worked there during summers in college and for the past five years, taking leave only recently to attend to the Little Man's issues. A woman that works for the company and has worked with my dad for about 12 years had a major tragedy in her life last week. Her husband committed suicide. He had a hard life, and suffered greatly in the recent past. They had only been married a year and a half. The loss of his life and their love has obviously been devestating to her, and is something I have been trying very hard not to even allow myself to imagine.

What does this have to do with home? I'm getting there. After we found out what had happened, after we cried, it became necessary to think about logistics of the business. This woman runs our PA office and will obviously be out of work for a bit. Much discussion led to the decision that my mom and I should head North and gather vital information needed to keep things running smoothly. This was only the second time since moving to NC about 14 months ago that I have made the trip. The first time was for Ashley's bridal shower and that was a whirl wind weekend during which I really had no time to stop and think, let alone reflect. Mom and I drove on Thursday, a 9 hour drive. We arrived and I dropped my mom off at a family friend's house where she would be staying. I then went to visit my friends, a couple who were my chiropractors when we lived there. After that visit I got in the car to head to my in-laws house where I would be staying. I was in the next town over, probably about a 7 mile drive from their house. As I drove out of the parking lot I could not for the life of me remember how to get there. I lost it. How could this possibly happen? I have known Wes for 12 years, almost the whole time I lived in PA. When we lived there I could navigate the area with my eyes shut. I essentially grew up there, it is where I learned to drive. Different routes from where I was to the in-laws house started to pop into my head. Unfortunately none seemed like the quickest or most direct route. Finally I just chose one. As I drove I saw places that had changed ownership, new businesses that had cropped up.

Reminder: I was already in a very emotional state. The route I had decided to take had me passing my parents old neighborhood, the house I lived in all through middle school and high school. I hadn't thought about it at the time, but I had inadvertantly chosen a route that included a 5 mile stretch that I have driven hundreds of time. I ended up driving from my old house to Wes' parents house. After I passed the old 'hood it didn't take me long to realize the situation I had put myself in. So much has changed. Not just the new businesses or all of the houses for sale on River Rd. following all of the flooding in the past 5 years, but my feelings about this place that I used to call home. I left there 7 months pregnant with Owen and very emotional after residing there for 12 years. Leaving was hectic, last minute things kept creeping up, and I really didn't get to say a proper goodbye to my "home".

I love where we live now. I wouldn't change it for the world, and I knew that before I made my trip "up North". Still, I expected to feel differently once I was back in the area. I didn't expect to feel any desire to move back but I did expect to feel a little sad or perhaps nostalgic at the least. Instead I felt hatred and anger. I hated being there. Of course the reason I was there and some of the ridiculous things that happened work-wise were not helpful, but I felt no desire to return ever again. This place was certainly not my home.

As I drove I cried and cried, almost having to pull over at one point. I missed my husband and my kids. That is when I hit me: Home is where the people that you love are. I suppose on some level I have always known this. In part the issue is that when I lived in PA so did Wes, my parents and my sister. The only tie we have to the area now is Wes' parents and even that won't be for long, as they have bought a house here in NC about 3 miles away. I was so glad to be staying with them. After 5 miles of driving this route that was as well-known to me as the back of my hand, I found myself at the house that Wes grew up in. The only problem was he was not there. Luckily for me his parents were. They were there to welcome me with open arms. They were there to listen and support me. Maybe I was not Home, but I was about as close to it as I could get.