Grieving a Sold Home (Because Yes, It’s Grief)

Nobody told me I’d cry like a little betch in the driveway.

We made the right call. I know that, on some level. We sold at the right time to the right person and for the right reasons (we’re moving over seas soon), but if I see a wall color we chose and love in the background of a photo of my kids that we bought that home to raise them in…. I break. I didn’t think there would be a depression phase but I didn’t have time to process the sale either. Our home sold in ONE DAY! One day, multiple offers, and the person who bought it didn’t want an inspection (you should always get an inspection, btw, this weirded us out), so things moved quickly.

It’s Okay to Grieve a House

There’s a weird cultural pressure to be excited about moving — new chapter, fresh start, all of that. And sure, that’s real. But so is the grief. That house held firsts. So many birthdays, and bonfires. I picture my son learning to ride a skateboard in the driveway, and I miss shooting hoops and first-day-of-school photos, and halloween trick-or-treating before enjoying a beer on my front lawn with the neighbor….and birthday parties and sick days on the couch, and the neighbor across the street having concerts in front of her home with her students…. (Grammy winning cellist, I’m not even kidding) so You don’t just pack that into boxes.

I’m naming it grief because that’s what it is. And grief deserves to be honored, not rushed past.

What Helped Me

Taking photos of every room before we left. Not just the pretty angles — all of it. The scuff on the wall where someone moved the credenza to retrieve a paper airplane from behind the couch (we don’t talk about it). All of it.

Letting the kids say goodbye. We did a little walk-through, just us, and said goodbye to each room, then I finished cleaning alone. It was a million degrees outside and wouldn’t stop raining and by the end, when I texted the realtor that our keys, all of them, were in the lockbox, I was exhausted and sad and felt ill. I drove to the Apartment we’d be calling home for a while, and was aware it would never feel like home, not really.

Giving myself a timeline to feel bad. I told myself I got two weeks to be sad about the house. Not forever. Just two weeks of full permission to miss it. After that, I started redirecting toward making the new place feel a little more comfortable, but with the end game in sight. It’s time to go. It’s time to go, and we have untethered ourselves, and our move abroad will be easier now.

To Anyone In This Right Now

You can be grateful for the new thing while leaving the old thing still hurts like a b%$ch. Those feelings aren’t mutually exclusive. You don’t have to choose. Just let yourself feel both, and then slowly — when you’re ready — let the new place start to feel like home.

It will. I promise it will.