HOME SWEET HOME

There’s no place like home. 

Dorothy said it best. And also, my mother, because she’s a really big Wizard of Oz fan. 

What is this sense of home? We know it’s not the house but the people inside and how they make you feel. Their unconditional love, the way they know just how to make you feel better, the food they cook, the inside jokes, the warmth of their hugs, and all the ways they show up for you every day. It looks different in every household. And I am so grateful my parents gave me a beautiful sense of home. 

But what does it feel like when that gets taken away? 

I once read grief described this way; it’s a feeling of wanting to go home but you can’t. And it is so painfully true. It is especially true if it is the loss of a parent. Even ten years later my world feels off its axis, and at times I can’t quite find my footing. It’s like the foundation that I’ve had my whole life has vanished. The one person who could make it all feel better, isn’t here. And I have to find a way to be okay with what is left behind. 

One day I am seeing my dad’s white pickup truck pulling into the driveway every night and I know that in a few minutes he will walk through the door with a huge smile on his face, say something like “Hey Nic!” and give me a huge hug. That’s home to me. Knowing my dad and all of his love would be there every day. There really is nothing quite like the comfort or sense of security a parent can bring you. It feels like a long deep exhale. 

But without this, it can feel like all you have is a really sharp inhale. And it sucks. There is no white pickup truck, no big smile, no hug. Nothing. I can’t tap my red heels together and utter the magic words to make him come back. There’s no Glinda the Good Witch in this story. 

But that is what therapy is for! And while I am still navigating this griefy crisis, I am making sure I build a sense of home for my children. And some days that just feels like a lot. 

This shaky feeling tends to get revved up during big life changes. And a few weeks after giving birth to my daughter I was having a particularly hard day. Hormones, am I right?! But I had the sense to dig deep and wonder what was aching in me that day. I realized that I was overwhelmed by how much I missed my dad and that yearning for home was consuming me. 

Sometimes I need a reminder of how complex grief is. On one hand there is the joy of my child being born and on the other, there is still the deep sorrow of my dad’s loss. It becomes an internal battle to allow both of those feelings to co-exist. But I have to remind myself that these emotions have co-existed before and they can do so again. I will say it is harder to surrender to that fact when you are two weeks postpartum. Nothing a good cry can’t fix though!

But once I was able to process these feelings, it became less scary. Whenever I am feeling anxious or griefy I like to figure out why, so it will dissipate. I highly recommend it. Or write it out, dance it out. Whatever floats your boat. 

I also realized that I use my loss to motivate me every day. Especially as a mother. Whenever I get my kids out of bed, or make their breakfast, or dance with them in my kitchen, or yell their name in excitement at school pick up, or console them when they are upset- I am creating that foundation for them. I want to be their big exhale in life. I want them to know I will show up the way my parents did. And I want to show them that I was able to do this even while healing from my own trauma. It feels strange to say but I am glad grief has given me this perspective in life.  

I can give my kids their sense of home even though I’m missing a piece of mine. 

And even though some days navigating all of this is super hard, I have the strength to do it. We all do. We can all do hard things. I just needed a little reminder. 

And so hopefully if you are reading this, I am your reminder too. I hope I can empower you today. I hope you find enjoyment in creating a sense of home for your family. Even in all the messiness of life, and on the days where it feels impossible. Even if you think you can’t do the hard, sticky things. You can. I assure you. 

Even when we have families of our own, we can still remember what home felt like as a child. It’s something we will hold onto forever. And I can still remember the feeling of that hug in this photo. 

Thank God for that.