For the first 5 years after my husbands sudden death, I remained living in the NYC/NJ area, trying to put the pieces of my life back together again. I worked 17 odd jobs at a time to pay the bills and rent, had roommates I was resentful for having, drove a shitty car which I then sold and landed a second, slightly less-shitty car, which then died a few months later. Kept picking up more temp jobs and directing gigs and waitressing gigs and anything else I could land, in addition to my teaching job as an adjunct professor. I was going out of my mind just trying to survive, both financially and literally. 

After about 5 years of this constant struggle, I made the decision to leave New York, the place I had called home since age 18 when I moved there to pursue my dreams, and return to my home state of Massachusetts. I finished writing my book, published it, and landed a part-time job working in a real estate office at Keller-Williams. In July I got licensed and am now a buyers agent for our team. I have been living with my parents, staying in their basement, which my dad and brother converted into a bedroom / home office for me. it has all been a huge adjustment, but living here with the folks has been oddly comforting and very low pressure, after years of having to really struggle. My parents are wonderful people, and they give me my space, while still caring about me in the way that good parents do. Two and a half years ago, I met someone and fell in love fast. We were both in a transitional period in our lives, and nowhere near in the position to get a place together, or anything like that. 

Now, here we are, some time later, and our situations have begun to change. We will be looking at apartments together very soon, and we are hopeful to be renting our first place together by spring, or perhaps even earlier. Im excited about it. Most of me is excited about it. And then that widowed part of me that knows what can happen – is terrified about it. 

What if we dont live together well? 

What if Im not able to adjust to sharing space with someone again? 

What will I do with all of Don’s “stuff” that I STILL have, sitting in my parents basement, after eight years? 

Will my grief and my need to find space for Don in my life be honored and respected? 

Will it be weird? 

Where will I move the current “Don memorial” that I have set up on my nightstand? Will it be disrespectful to have that while living with another man?

Can I move it somewhere else instead? Will that bother me? 

What if moving in with him brings up triggers of when Don moved in with me? 

Its happening at the same time of year. Superbowl Sunday was when we moved in together. 

Hopefully this move will happen a bit later than that, but just the fact that we are talking about moving and looking at apartment options now – 

it’s a lot. 

I didnt expect to be terrified. 

We have been planning this for awhile. 

Talking about it. 

But when it became a reality the other day, 

due to some circumstances changing, 

I found myself panicking. 

About all the questions above, 

Plus, 

the biggest reason to panic – 

what if we move in together, and start our life,

and its all taken away, 

all over again? 

What if we get all settled in,

and we are happy, 

and begin to plan a future,

and then he dies? 

The thought of that is haunting,

and makes me breathless. 

Im scared. 

And Im excited too. 

But Im really,

very scared.