I know I’ve been writing alot about my home in Georgia lately. It was the home that my late husband, Rich, and I purchased at the beginning of 2020. It still strikes me as how big an adjustment it was for us to move from our homestate of New Jersey to a gated community in the South where we knew no one.

We also had the added challenges presented by the Covid shut down and the fact that our home in NJ remained unsold for 6 months. By the second half of 2020, however, we finally began to settle into our beautiful new home adjusting to the heat of a southern summer, enjoying the ammentities of our new community and making friends and connections.

That idyllic life ended, however, when in late October Rich became ill, passing in three short weeks. The immediate period following his passing was thankfully distracting as my 95 year-old mother came to live with me for three months and I was also responsible for the management of my father’s care in a nearby assisted living facility.

During that time I made improvements and some changes to the home that Rich and I had created. New paint, some new furniture made the place “my own” and for awhile that worked. With the passing of my father and my mother’s return north, however, a restlessness prompted me to seek new territories. 

I read something today that resonated with me. It stated that all the paint and new furniture in the world can’t fix a foundation that is broken. While some are prefectly content to continue life in the same home shared by their deceased spouse, or partner, some aren’t and that is why it’s important to understand and honor the differences among us as we forge ahead in our respective widowed voyages.

In time, I ended settling in a rural farming community in Northeast Florida where I remain. But, that house in Georgia is still part of my life despite me trying to bid it farewell since 2023. Two sets of tenants have come and gone, and I once again put up it for sale. But, due to the development going on in my backyard, a weak housing market and other factors, my beautiful Villa Haven as I call it remains mine and I’ve decided to take a short break from the market to wait for improved circumstances. The house wins again!

Since February, I’ve made several two-hour trips up to GA to continue my clean out and make home improvements for its next owner, or tenant. The other day a good friend asked it I found it hard to keep returning to that house after all that has transpired. I told her it was like having a foot in two worlds. In many ways the Georgia home is a shell of my former life. It is a beautiful house, but it carries too many memories. On this visit, while surveying its empty rooms, I recalled how so many friends and family came to visit and spend time with us there and all the great times we had. It is truly bittersweet.

While up in Georgia, I happened to meet another widow in my community. She said she was heading to a home she kept in a more rural area out-of-state. She said that while she liked living in our Georgia community, her soul was in her other place. I understood what she meant and I’m sure we both know we are fortunate to have choices despite our circumstances. 

This life here in the country isn’t for everyone, and it once again strikes me how big a deal it was to move from a safe haven in my gated community to a place so different. In six years I’ve drifted south from the Jersey Shore, to Georgia and then further south to Northeast Florida, all very distinct experiences. At this point I’ve learned to embrace these changes and now I’ve slowly come to call this place in Old Florida home. I know in the near future that house in Georgia will welcome new occupants who will call that place home and its rooms with life again.

Until then, I’ll enjoy the longer days of spring and await their arrival.