A Bittersweet Goodbye
Learning to let go
I could make all the rational reasons why selling our home of seven years was a good idea.
We didn’t need so much space now that the children were older, and had different interests. I couldn’t remember the last time they had played in the tree house.
Often it felt as if we were spending more time in the car than at home. Every week we were taking the children to sports training/games/carnivals, casual job shifts, and friends’ houses.
When we weren’t in the car, we were maintaining the property. Mowing and tending to two acres of land takes time. And tidying, organising and cleaning 300 sq m in the hours that remained was leaving less time to actually enjoy life outside of the home.
We were ready for change. This house was the longest my husband had ever lived in a home. Seven years in one location was a long time for us. Prior to this property, we had moved about every three years.
We were entering a new decade of our lives. And for both of us, something shifted. More than any other time, we felt a real sense of wanting to plan our future — long term. We started asking big questions, and getting big answers…
Learning to Let Go
While I could rattle off all the reasons that selling and moving was a good idea, when it came to the time to leave the house for the last time I felt a sense of grief flood over me.
I was sad for all that I was letting go of:
The beautiful view from the kitchen deck.
The misty mornings.
The evening sunsets.
The space.
The memories.
Of course, we can take memories with us — but this home felt so personal. It was where our children had really become who they are today.
When we first arrived, they were ages 10, 7, 5 and 2. When we left, they were 17, 14, 12 and 9. Those years have been significant in their growth.
I also felt that we were letting go of an identity of the type of people we were.
We were no longer living on acreage. We no longer embracing some kind of Waldean existence.
I would miss our morning walks on a country road, Sunday lunches on the deck overlooking the neighbouring paddock, being enveloped by nature at every turn.
These are all luxuries, no doubt.
And yet I let myself mourn them.
I let myself cry.
And cry, and cry, and cry.
And what I realised was that the tears weren’t just for the house, but for the passing of time. How quickly it goes. I was sad that the days of marking children’s heights on a door jamb are over. I was feeling the pang of saying goodbye to those beautiful precious years when children are young, and you are their entire world. And now, their worlds are expanding, and they are stepping into their own next chapter.
And that’s as it is meant to be.
So, I allowed myself to cry. Then took a few deep breaths, wiped my tears and stepped into our new home.
WHAT ABOUT YOU…
Do you find saying goodbye harder as you grow older? What helps you let go?
Share in the comments below. I’d love to hear from you.
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A Good Book Last week I finished reading the excellent James by Percival Everett, which won the 2025 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. A little while ago, I also enjoyed the film American Fiction, which was an adaptation of his novel Erasure.
A Captivating Film Recently we went to the cinemas to watch Marty Supreme. I enjoyed it more than I expected. We were on the edge of our seats, never quite sure what was going to happen next. I confess that I am partial to a film with an anti-hero. After all, not everything in life is perfect.
A Sneak Peek If you’d like to have a look at our new home, watch this. Also, a farewell walk through our home in the Byron Hinterland is here.
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Thank you for your words .. we too are contemplating selling our family home & this is exactly how I feel 🖤
We recently downsized too. I felt many of the emotions you mentioned but had never thought of it as time passing by. I felt we just didn’t need so much space. I cried quite a bit as did our son. But I feel we are ready for the next stage in life. Thank you for the article. It put many of my feelings into perspective.