I sometimes wonder if I’m not boring everyone with my abundant log cabin photos and posts about my experience of running off to live in the woods not long after Rich’s passing.

It’s a major part of my post-widowed experience, and my processing, however, so I write on. Next week marks the two year anniversary of my purchase of this home so it’s also timely.

After Rich’s passing in late October 2021, I had no plans for my future. Who plans for that? With the loss of a life partner, or spouse, however, your life becomes a blank slate. From that point on, you really are making “it” up as you go along. There is no one true path, everyone’s is unique to their life situation. 

The day after Rich passed, my mother came to stay with me, and my dad was being cared for in an assisted living facility just down the road from us in Georgia. The only one thing I knew for sure then was that as long as my parents remained in this world, I would be there for them, and in many ways, that is what kept me in my home in the South.  

Both of my parents were in their mid-90s at that time, too fragile to be moved back to their roots in the North. My immediate goal, in addition to now solely maintaining a large household, was to administer to their care and needs. 

With the subsequent passing of my father in 2023 and my mother ten months later, my life changed again. I became restless and thought it would be helpful to have a place to escape to when I wanted a change of scenery. 

I began to explore the interior of rural “Old Florida” because it was more affordable than the coast and was only a  two-hour drive away, which was manageable. It was then that I became obsessed with a waterfront log cabin located in a town to which I’d never even been.

Situated on a wooded acre, it was truly not the “small property” I had envisioned, or one I thought I could afford. Although it was far from being a practical choice, each night I’d gaze at its listing on real estate sites just imagining the possibilities. 

Returning home invigorated by my experience at Camp Widow, I saw that its sale was no longer pending. It was time to take action. I called the listing agent and Vicky made arrangements for me to tour that property, and some others. That day, not long after I stepped through door of the log home, I made a life-changing offer. By the time I arrived home in Georgia, that offer had been accepted. 

“Congratulations, Quint,” I spoke to my dog in the back seat as we headed back to Georgia. “You have a new log cabin!”

Throughout the past two years, I’ve shared so many photos of the home, the property and nearby locales. With its natural beauty and landscapes, this is truly the “Old Florida” many speak of, but few experience. Some may say it’s the middle of the middle of nowhere, but I can appreciate that.

It isn’t a life for everyone. One grocery store, a handful of eateries, one bank, one traffic light. But, within an hour, we can be in St. Augustine, Ormond and Daytona Beaches and other coastal towns that offer so much. Jacksonville isn’t too far off, and Disney World is less than two hours away by car. There are some pretty waterfront venues not far from this town, as well with lots of live music. I truly hope this area will retain its natural state for as long as possible.

What I thought was going to be my vacation escape, became my primary residence. It has been an adjustment to say the least. Looking back, I realize that this all occurred during the end if that dreaded two-year widowhood “mile marker” that the widowed veterans warn about. I’d made it through and maybe this was my way of “celebrating”.

With a new life that is so different from any other I’ve lived. I still face some personal challenges. Having lost six major family members since 2018, I know I “deal “with what is known as compound grief. It helps that I’m not alone here, and that I have a strong network of friends and colleagues. It also helps me to imagine that those who’ve passed would have loved this place, and I find a way to share it with them each and ever day. 

Here’s to all navigating their own losses, and finding a way forward when the time is right. And thanks to those “logging” in every Saturday to read about my log home life. I hope it brings you some inspiration along your own paths.