I don’t want to write this post. Not because it’s 3 AM. Not because I’m tired. Not because I have to wake up relatively early tomorrow and initiate a packing frenzy before the arrival of my mother. I don’t want to write this post because I am afraid of what touching my truth right now might unfurl in me. I feel as though I am keeping my grief at bay. I would rather not disturb it tonight. I would rather stay detached from it for just a little while longer. At least until after the movers have come and gone.

I anticipate that sometime in the next several days I will break down weeping. I expect that I will sob over all the things that are ending, all the things I have let go of, and all the things that will change in ways I cannot yet fathom. I imagine myself crying so hard  leaving here that I would be a danger behind the wheel of my car. Perhaps it will happen exactly like this. Perhaps it won’t.

The truth is, I am not sad to be leaving here. I am ready. I am eager. I am hopeful and excited. I like the person I am becoming, and this move is somehow an integral part of this process. I think I should be sad to be leaving here. Maybe it’s not so much that I am actively keeping my grief at bay, but that it simply isn’t there to the depth and breadth I expected it to be. Maybe that’s the real truth that for some reason is making me uncomfortable tonight.

[I set my computer down and walked away for ten minutes, unsettled because I couldn’t quite put my finger on the truth that felt most authentic to me. It came to me suddenly as I stood outside and I returned to write the remainder of this post.]

Here is my truth:

I experienced an ending tonight that I had anticipated would wreck me. The meaning of what I have shared with these people is beyond me to put into words. They have been family for me. They have given me the only sense of home I have had in a long time. Tonight I was there for the last time. I expected that this would devastate me. When I drove all the way home with dry eyes, I was surprised.  I felt like I needed to apologize for this. As though in not being utterly overwhelmed by grief, it somehow indicated that I loved them less.

I don’t want my time with these people, in the ways that we have shared it, to end. I don’t like that it is ending, not one little bit. I am saddened by the loss, and likely not yet feeling the extent of it. But, even when it does come, as I’m sure it will, it won’t wreck me. It will touch me, I will feel it, and I will keep moving on. I hope to do so with them. In new and wonderful ways. It won’t be the same, but that is okay for all of us. Even for me.

I am different now. I don’t understand the ways that I have changed, but I know that I have. I am continuing to change. I said last night that I have a lot of letting go to do, and this is still true. I need to let go of most everything I think I know, especially about me. I need to be open to discovering who and how I am in the moments as they present themselves. Because the next won’t be the same as the last. It can’t be when I am not the same.