That’s all that’s left. Two weeks from today, I’m moving to Chicago. I can’t believe it. I’m thrilled, really. But I’ll admit that I’m completely terrified at the same time.
I was talking to Phil last week, and I told him that I’m a little afraid that for the next several years at least, we’re going to be the people who are always “moving on.” My degree only takes two years. What then? We’ll move on to something else, somewhere else. I’m nervous about making new friends and growing distant from old ones. I feel overwhelmed. Last night though, a pastor at the church we attend most Sunday evenings shared some great advice. He spoke right to my need when I hadn’t even told him about it. “It’s ok to grieve,” he said. I broke down. “But I have some encouragement,” he continued with a funny smile, “it doesn’t get any easier.” I know he’s right. The more you love, the harder it is to leave.
But for now, I will embrace this period of mourning as much as I embrace the excitement of this new adventure. It’s a blending of joy and grief, of celebration and sorrow. In one week, Phil and I will celebrate two years of marriage. Two years! Yet the same was true even then. I wept for the separation I would experience with my family, but I was overjoyed to be marrying the love of my life. The feelings are familiar, and my pastor friend is right…it hasn’t gotten any easier. You don’t get used to it.
So, as I pack, I cry. As I celebrate this new beginning, I get choked up. As I write, I brush away a few tears.
Needless to say, for the next two weeks, I’m going to be a basket case.