Day 33

Today, I handed the keys to my house over to the renters. It was a strange feeling to be relinquishing the house I have lived in for seven years. The moving process was grueling, and I only made it though because of the help of many wonderful friends and family members. It was amazing how much stuff we had accumulated in seven years. I often found myself angry during the moving. Here I was working my ass off – sorting through piles of belongings, hauling boxes, and organizing volunteers. And all the while, he is living a “new” and responsibility-free life in Denver. It just didn’t seem fair, or right, or even logical. I had always envisioned us moving out together and into a larger, nicer home. We had talked and dreamed about that together.

After the moving and cleaning was complete, my feelings of anger shifted toward sadness and despair. Looking at the empty house brought so many memories flooding back. I sat in the empty house and watched a picture-show of memories run across the walls. Two of our three children had been welcomed home as newborns into this house. We celebrated Archie’s 4^th – 8^th birthdays there and would have celebrated number 9 if he hadn’t left one week prior to it. Seven Christmases – all of them filled with family traditions, laughter, and love. Seven summers filled with sprinklers, plastic swimming pools, and bike rides around the neighborhood. Neighbors that we laughed at together and eavesdropped on through open windows while laying in bed on summer nights. The neighborhood park, which facilitated many picnics and evenings together as a family. The backyard garden and the strawberry patch we had worked on for many years. The kitchen, where meals were shared with friends and family. The nursery, where babies were rocked to sleep. And the living room, where family games nights were frequent and enjoyed by all.

And with all these memories, I also must acknowledge the pain that I endured during the seven years at Evergreen, as well as the secrets I have found since his departure. The boxes stuffed full of evidence that had been shoved in the attic. The bags of receipts and credit card statements stuffed behind the garage cabinets. The mailbox, where I had occasionally uncovered his secrets but failed to see as red flags. And the bedroom, where four months before he left he had shoved Oliver aside and told me he would relinquish his parental rights after I asked to look through his cell phone. And yet, I had held onto hope that I could somehow “fix” him. That he could be successful, honest, and live with integrity. The house is full of memories, and I see him everywhere inside and outside of it. Sometimes I can still hear the sounds of his car pulling up next to the mailbox, where he used to park. I can see him getting out, walking up the sidewalk, and coming in to the sounds of “Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!”

Farewell Evergreen. You were a good, safe, and strong house. I will always remember the moments in time that were captured inside your walls. I trust that the future will hold more memories and maybe another house for me and the kids. But we’ll never forget about our very first house we called our own. The husband and daddy we loved got lost along the way and is now gone. Then again….maybe he never really existed.