Hey, widows and widowers: Should I stay here in my beloved Aptos home or move on, create something new?

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Sitting here at my Aptos kitchen table, I can look out to the front lawn and recall how much my late husband, Michael, and our grandson, Dodger, used to love to play catch. They would toss an old, blue-and-red Thomas the Train foam football we bought one summer while spending the morning at Roaring Camp in Felton riding the old steam train. Even as Dodger grew older, he had a sentimental attachment to the squishy toy. 

Then there was the bright yellow plastic bat Dodger used to smack white whiffle balls out of the yard and into the street. Added points if the ball ended up in the back of Michael’s work truck parked in the driveway.

Michael would pitch, Dodger would swing, I would cheer. I stare out my window and can almost see them. Hear them. But then my mind clears and I realize there is only silence in my front yard. And my sweet boy, Dodger, feels more grief than joy when he comes to my house now. His “Pops” who filled this house with his presence is so obviously missing. 

It breaks my heart.

His history with this house is filled with Michael. My history with this house goes back so much further. This is where I have been happier than any place I have ever lived before. This is where my dreams of having a family were realized. This is the first place I ever felt secure. 

This is my home in the truest sense of the word. 

Should I stay here in my house or move on, create something new? 

My widowed friends have all so far stayed in the houses where they lived with their partners. Where they raised their children and where now grandchildren come to visit. But, we are all fairly new at this game of solitaire. 

When we get together the subject of moving comes up often. Downsizing is tempting, and as my friends’ children all live here in Santa Cruz, the change of address, though a big deal, wouldn’t make a huge difference in their daily lives. Family would still be close. Friends would still be available for walks, coffee, dinner, etc. Book club gatherings could still happen. 

Yes, there would be sadness when the front door was locked and the keys handed over to a new family who will settle in and spend years creating their own history in their new home. A chapter really will close. Perhaps that is a good thing. Perhaps.

Standard advice says do nothing big the first year. So I sit here at my window and remember and wonder if being surrounded by so many memories is a good thing or not. If I move, the memories will stay with me, but perhaps I will feel more open to creating a new life in fresh surroundings. Or perhaps I’ll feel unmoored.

I don’t know.

I have begun to look at rental listings in Los Angeles. My daughter, Kira, and my grandson live in Southern California and I try to imagine living close by. I believe I may be getting a reputation as a tease when it comes to realtors in the southern part of our state. I look at photos of condos for rent and try to determine if I would need one bedroom or two. Should I be in the city center or out in the valley? Am I interested in having a pool, or would I seldom use it? 

Every listing I check out, I try to insert myself into the picture. Would my couch work in the living room? Do I want something new or something old, but with character? And of course, what can I afford? I fully realize that putting my house on the market more than 40 years after purchasing it would be a windfall financially.

But still, would it be worth it to sell and begin an entirely new life? 

I shut down my computer and look around at my house filled with 40 years of stuff and feel overwhelmed at the thought of packing it up and moving it. 

I would have to clean out the garage. That right there stops me in my tracks.

I receive text messages and emails from hungry realtors. I tell them I am just playing with the idea, but I will get back to them if I feel the need to take the next step. And then, I stay away from the listings for a while, feeling overwhelmed with the prospect.

Just now my phone pinged with another message from a realtor offering me a peek at a new listing. I assume it is a text sent to dozens of people, but I feel the weight of his hope. 

My life has been here for decades. My friends are not in L.A., they are here. Could I make new friends this late in life? If I moved into a condo or an apartment, would my neighbors become new friends? Or are their dance cards full? 

Maybe the thing to do is rent out my little house here and experiment with living someplace new. But even that seems overly complicated. 

I wonder what others have done. Folks I don’t know, but who have been in this situation. I want to hear from widowed seniors. 

Did you stay put and attempt to live the same life only as a single rather than a couple? And how is that working? Or did you make a big change, empty the closets, wrap the dishes in bubble wrap, make several trips to Goodwill, fill out change-of-address cards and then begin life anew? Do you have regrets?

One of these days I will figure it out. It would be nice to be close to my only family as I approach true old age, but I fear being a burden. 

Oh, the decisions one has to make when the unexpected happens. So if you have stories to share, please do. I’ll be waiting to hear. Email me at cmarie302@aol.com.