A Space To Grieve, A Space To Grow

It was love at first sight - even before. We followed the walk to the steps and climbed onto the front porch, warm and welcoming. My heart immediately connected to the porch swing, images of a future with friends and family gathering here filled my hopes. A front porch swing feels like home. We bought the house, made it home, and years of memories collected on this porch and in every corner of every room, waiting to be picked and shared, to offer warmth on cold days. 

27 years go fast when you’re making memories. 

Here I sit, draped in blankets on a swing proud to be called our home. In this space, my emotional home, I call on memories to assure my heart it wasn’t a dream. 

This swing, our home, this life. 

Some might say it’s my grieving space. But really, it’s where I find the energy to live again. It’s home for my soul work. 

This swing, her gentle rock on rough days, her playful movement when giddy bodies push back and forth, her gift of home, safety, and space for two or more. 

She’s always been here, a space to think, to play, and now to grieve. She defined our home from the start. And today, she’s here with comfort, space, and her gentle rocking to soothe my broken heart. 

Here, I begin to pick up the broken pieces of my heart and slowly learn to move again. 

No one thinks, when they buy a house, where will I grieve? Where is the space where I will spend my most painful hours? 

No one thinks that - because you can’t buy that. You build that, you create it one memory at a time.