townhouse

Feb. 10th, 2011 09:47 pm
For much of the afternoon and evening, I've been thinking of what I might post here. Now that I'm finally at a computer, I find my self too drained and my head hurting too much to write even half of it.

The townhouse has been on the market for almost a year. It is hard for me to remember that this is not the house that my beloved and I lived in, but a similar structure standing on the same slab. Even the tree that stood outside our bedroom has been removed.

Today I received and signed a contract for the townhouse. I desperately need to sell it, both because I can't afford to continue paying the mortgage and because it is time to let go. I still can't go into the neighborhood without approaching panic and/or feeling distinctly unwell. I think I've been by the house a total of 5 times since it was rebuilt, and only one of them willingly, when I thought I might somehow feel closer to Greg there (I didn't).

So the contract has been signed for an offer less than I hoped for, but more than I was afraid I'd have to accept. Which would be ok, because after all, it takes time to process things, and by the time closing rolls around I'll be used to the idea, right? Umm, no. They want to close next Thursday. One week from today. All that has to be done first is a home inspection and for the buyer to review the bylaws for the Home Owners Association. The HOA may be what does me in, but I hope not.

So a week from today, I may no longer own the home that Greg and I lived in from the time we were married until the day of his death. Just writing that makes me start shaking again.

It isn't our home. Hasn't been for over 3 years now. I don't know why it is so very hard to let go, when I KNOW it isn't our home and I KNOW I can't afford to keep it, and I KNOW I only hurt when I go there, and there is no good reason for me to fall apart over the sale.

Somehow it sort of feels like I'm giving up on him by letting go of the house, which is stupid, of course, because holding on the house isn't going to magically bring him back. If it would, I'd beg, borrow and steal to make it so.

A week from now, one more burden will be lifted from my shoulders. I wish it felt like as much of a good thing as I know it is.

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thekyttn

October 2015

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