You're the Greatest Thing We've Lost

No one talks about how difficult it is wanting to be near the ones you love, but not wanting to be where they are. 


As someone that is living, and loving their family and friends from afar, this sentence could not be any more true. 


My 9 week stay in my hometown with my family has come to an end, just as all good things usually do. 


Would you believe me if I told you that when I leave a destination and head to a new one I typically cry? 


Well, if you really know me this wouldn’t be a surprise at all. 

 


I like to think of it as a form of grief. Surprisingly, grief can happen for whatever reason. I grieve the person that I was when I arrived and the person that I am when I leave. The lessons learned. The people that I met and connections that I made. The things that I was able to experience. 


The grief that I experience when I leave home is similar, yet altogether different. 


Worse in a way.


I don’t cry for myself, I cry for the people that I am leaving behind. 


When I leave Ludington and head to my next destination, logging into work that following Monday, the coworker that I have had for the past 9 weeks will no longer be there. The catching up on daily to do lists over breakfast and planning family dinners with Marta will have to be paused until I am home again. 


I will miss out on my Dad hanging up the final signs in his barn and our after work catch ups around the table admiring the new building. Believe it or not, I will even miss the nights that we spent watching Dr. Pol in the living room. 


No more sunset pier walks will happen, seeing who can capture the best photo. The leaves outside of my Moms kitchen window will change color and eventually fall and I won’t be there to see it. Her and I won’t be able to sit around a bonfire, laughing and sharing stories until next summer. 


Being an only child is such a unique experience, and because that is all that I have ever known, I don’t have anything to compare it to. Because of this, and the size of my immediate family, I have been able to form a really special bond and relationship with my parents. 


It was always just us. When I was younger I wished for siblings to share in the responsibility at home. The chores, the discipline, the fun. Now that I am older, I couldn't be happier to have grown up as an only. 


My parents have truly become some of my best friends, and for this bond, I am so incredibly thankful. 


Since deciding to hit the road full time, I have experienced a profound sadness each and every time that I leave them. Whether it is after a family visit in Savannah, GA or Thanksgiving spent in Ludington. 


This grief is a badge of honor. Something that I wear proudly as it shows that I have the ability to love and care so deeply. It exists because each and every time that I feel homesick I am reminded that I have something, and someone(s) worth returning home for. 


My parents have been nothing short of the most supportive and encouraging of me and my adventures. I can’t help but to think they experience a similar grief every time they have to say goodbye as well. Worrying about my safety and if I will enjoy the next leg of my journey. 


It is a bitter sweet kind of sadness. Sad because it’s never easy saying see you soon, but happy in the sense that I am doing something that has made me feel alive in ways that I didn’t know were possible. 


I hope they’re proud of me and can see that on the other side of the sadness, is their daughter, their world, exploring her world. 


After spending time away, it is easy for me to see why my friends would return to the place in which their family resides. There is nothing that can compare to family. 


While my life is far from conventional right now, it is what works for me. It is what lights the fire within my soul and pushes me to continue to become the best version of myself. 


Grief is the consequence of following this path. Of choosing an adventurous life and going against the grain. It wasn’t, and isn’t an easy choice, but is one that with a heavy heart I make time and time again. 


Living my life on the road means that I am never really whole. I feel that I leave a piece of my heart wherever I go. The biggest being home, with my family, and the people that mean that very most to me. 

 


This is the part where people step in and say “well this is a part of growing up”. While that is true enough, that doesn't make it hurt any less. 


I am so fortunate to have the opportunity to spend time exploring beautiful places, but I am also fortunate to have the time and the want to come home, and spend more than a weekend there. I have gotten more time with my family this summer than some adults do in a few years. 


There is a song by Noah Kahn, called You’re Gonna Go Far that has been my leaving song. One in which I listen to every time I leave the place, and the people that are my home. 


And unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the following lyrics deeply resonate with me. 


Pack up your car, put a hand to your heart.


Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are. 


We ain’t angry at you, love.


You’re the greatest thing we’ve lost. 


But with great sacrifice comes an equally great reward. Sometimes in life, if you want to go far, you’ve got to go far. 


Until next time, Ludington. 

 

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2 comments

👍💚💪🤙

Gary

Thank you for sharing your time with me! It was great to see you.

Heidi

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