Moving should be a joyous occasion, right? The idea of starting over, starting new, fresh, clean. But these are not the associations I make on this day. Instead I am constantly reminded of why we had to move in the first place. You moved out. Left a loving and caring wife for some new girl. Left your family for a new one. Like trading in your trusted but beat up pickup truck for a new, shiny, impractical sports car. The trouble you caused our family boiled down finally to us having to move. Move away from where I grew up, where I lived my entire life, where I had so many memories of better times, joyous times. But those times were with you and now you’re not around anymore. We had to leave that place of so many memories and give it over to some other family so they can build up their memories and steal away the good times that I had. The same thing might happen to them, the husband might move out and find a new girlfriend to run around with and leave his family behind too. And they will have to start over just like we did.
Moving I guess isn’t what is really getting me down, but it’s a symbol of what you did to us. You put us through three years of anguish and stress and this is the end result. Mom has had to do this all by herself too. With me being away all the time I haven’t lived it like Mom has. Everyday she is reminded of what you did to her. Everyday since June she had to live without a home until now. Everyday since 2008 that you weren’t there. Everyday that she thought you might come back. Then she realized you weren’t coming back. The divorce was finalized not long ago and that made it final. Moving from that house is final. Moving into this one makes it final.
She has had to deal with all of this by herself. Just the physical toll of her moving disgusts me. The emotional toll makes me feel worse. The fact that you have no idea, no conception of what you did and what kind of shit storm you created makes me physically sick. I want to throw up. I can’t eat. And you have no idea. Not a clue.
I know you’re supposed to tell yourself that moving is a perfect occasion to start over and create a new life, and that will be true in time, but it’s difficult to swallow right now. I can’t stomach it. Of course moving under different circumstances would be different.
Families move when they have children because they need more space. They find a different house that’s bigger, in a better neighborhood, better schools, less crime, etc. It’s happy and it symbolizes growth and progression in their lives. Like a hermit crab that has outgrown it’s shell and needs to find a bigger one. They do it out of necessity just like we did, but in an opposite way. We had to downsize. We had to decrease our family instead of expand it. We had to move to a worse neighborhood, a smaller house. You did this to us. You did this to Mom.
It is exciting. I’m telling myself that now. But I still can’t stop thinking about why this is happening.
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