Living with the Weight of Goodbye - Moving Out

After a year, I knew it was time to move. It was a tough decision to make but one I knew was vital. The house had become an emotional weight that none of us could carry any more.

To understand how I got to this point, I will start with the fact that Dakota passed away in his sleep, in his bed. For the first three months, I refused to leave the house, convinced that walking out the door meant leaving him behind. My daughter Bryanna, on the other hand, could hardly bring herself to come home—it was too much, too heavy. We were both drowning in grief, just in different ways. And no matter how much time passed, the house wasn’t just a home anymore—it was a constant reminder of what we had lost.

I knew we needed a change. Not to forget, but to breathe again. To let go of the pain trapped inside those walls without letting go of him.

At the time, my daughter was with her now-spouse, and they were planning their future together. It wasn’t easy for her—happiness felt like guilt, knowing Dakota wasn’t there to share it. But eventually, they found a new place, a space to build their life together.

As for me, I had been with my boyfriend for a couple of years, and we had already talked about moving in together before Dakota passed. But after surviving that first unbearable year, I realized I couldn’t stay where I was anymore. The grief had taken over the house, and I was barely functioning. My boyfriend had been holding things together for us while I just existed. Something had to change.

So, in December 2022, we moved. Bryanna and her spouse started fresh in their new home, and I moved in with my partner. It wasn’t easy—nothing about grief ever is. But it was necessary. That move became another step toward finding some space to breathe, begin again, and figure out what life after loss was supposed to look like.

Moving Out