Grief in Places: Why One Home Haunts Me, and the Other Does Not
🏡 When the House No Longer Holds Them "In desperate hope, I go and search for her in all the corners of my house... But infinite is thy mansion, my Lord, and seeking her I have come to thy door." —Rabindranath Tagore 🕯️ My Mother's Presence Lingered After my mother passed, her home felt like hers. Every room whispered of her presence— The kitchen still smelled of her cooking. Her closet still held the scent of her perfume. I thought cleaning out her closet would bring some relief. It didn’t. Her spirit clung to every inch of that house. I wasn’t just letting go of things—I was letting go of her space, her sanctuary. 📦 Letting Go of Mark’s Belongings When Mark died, I handled it differently. I began sorting through his things right away. Bryce helped. Today, he brought Mark’s clothes to Goodwill. It wasn’t easy. But we both knew that clearing space might help us breathe again. 🤍 Why It Felt Different I kept wondering: Why was it harder to leave my mother’s house than...