White Hill Trail, Forest Landing State Park, Virginia Beach, VA
Take a deep breath… talking to myself here.
Once upon a time there was a couple who was very much in love… or so I thought (and I can only speak for myself). The one man with whom I felt a deep connection, who made me laugh and made my heart skip a beat and shared my curiosity about life.
We became engaged but decided to hold off on marrying until our children were out of high school, with his own child being the last to graduate. We fell in love with an historic college town in Georgia before he proposed, and we had one of those “Revolutionary Road” phases, not unlike the couple portrayed by Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet in the film of the same title. We were excited. I would have followed him to the ends of the earth back then, and I couldn’t wait for us to have a home of our own together, one where we shared loving moments, held each other through life’s ups and downs, talked over dinner and wine each evening, adventured together, and supported one another in our work.
It never happened, but what did happen is he moved to another Virginia city for what was supposed to be a school year… and he never returned to plan our future. The details aren’t important, but what wasn’t important was me. No other way around it.
I should have walked away then, but I was in the throes of menopause and not always thinking clearly. Instead, I kicked, screamed, and turned into someone I didn’t recognize… and he just kept moving west, continuing to scale down his living quarters to a fairly minimal existence.
At some point, I internally made peace with his decision, hoping and thinking he’d be doing whatever he could to bring us together by initiating conversations about our future, introducing me to people in the community, and finally being together to really do life after raising our children.
Those conversations never took place. I spent more time on Zillow that he knows, looking at homes in that area, hoping that we’d find “our” place, one that would be our sacred container but also a home for occasional friend gatherings and a place where we could welcome our grandchildren.
Hoping.
I hoped he would move us forward, and he hoped I would fall in love with his chosen geographical location.
Truth: Man or woman cannot live on hope alone.
I came to shun that part of the state. Not really, as it’s truly beautiful and serene, but I became angry as I watched him paint his apartment, string lights, and acquire three cats, always saying that spot was a “placeholder” until we decided where we’d be.
There was always an excuse, and looking back, the writing was plainly on the wall. I just didn’t want to see it.
It likely didn’t help that I developed an attraction to someone else, a person who was grounded in a sense of home. My then fiance and I parted ways and I began dating that other person. That relationship definitely wasn’t meant to be, but for a very brief while, this woman whose husband literally disappeared, felt a certain peace and stability I hadn’t felt in ages, and I will always be grateful for that.
My great love and I found our way back together, but again, there was zero talk of forward movement, except in very abstract and general terms.
And now “we” are no longer.
And now I am left–alone–to figure out my next step.
It was never my plan to stay in Virginia Beach… ever. Honestly? I have been mentally checked out of this city for a long time; and with a son in the military, another in Hawaii, and no siblings, I find myself truly alone and pondering my next landing place.
My list is short at this point. I’ve no desire to return to my home state of North Carolina…at least I don’t think so. I love my extended family, but living the rest of my life in NC has never been on my radar screen. There are a couple options in Georgia, maybe South Carolina; and while I love the peace and offerings of Central Virginia and the Valley, do I really want to move there now? What if I run into my ex of nearly a quarter of a century at the grocery store?
What am I supposed to say?
“Oh, hey, Bro, how’s it going? Remember me?”
My stomach sinks, and I weep as I write this.
I have a birthday in a couple weeks. None of us are getting any younger, and now is the time for me to start prepping, unloading, and listening for God’s guidance as I prepare for my next–and perhaps, final–landing place in this life.
Alone.
I took the above photo yesterday while on a chilly hike with a dear friend. I loved the view and the openness, but as I gaze at it now, I see it as a metaphor for where I am in my life: The tree on the right is me, having been rooted in Virginia Beach for over 36 years. The one on the left is my next chapter. The water and open vista in between are the options I am considering.
Deep, deep breaths as I remain open to where God and life are calling me as a single (a word I despise but am using instead of my decades old “widow” moniker) woman.
I hope the other great love of my life (my late husband being the first) lives a fulfilling life in his preferred single and alone state.
I hope I find my way to my next landing place.
Hope and hope.
But HOPE requires action, and I am finally taking it.
Amy Walton is searching for her next dwelling place, community, and landing spot. She welcomes anyone who has been in a similar place to connect with her for advice and encouragement. Connect with her at amywaltoncoaching@gmail.com.