Although I knew this day would come, I dreaded its arrival—the day we had to let go of our family home. No more stopping by to relive the memories held within its walls. The laughter, the chaos of eight children running around my mom as she cooked dinner, my dad playing his accordion while we all danced. That house wasn’t just a building; it was the foundation of our lives. It was where birthdays were celebrated, holiday meals were shared, and where we always knew we could return, no matter how much time had passed.
For years, it remained largely untouched. After my dad passed away, my mom moved into an assisted living community, but selling the house was out of the question. To her, it was more than just a place to live—it was the glue that held our family together. She clung to the hope that she might return one day, and we honored that, keeping the house for a decade. It gave us a sense of stability, even if life had moved forward in so many other ways.
The Reality of Letting Go
Time moved forward whether we wanted it to or not. The house aged, maintenance costs grew, and my mom’s dementia progressed. She no longer spoke of going home, and her physical limitations made it unsafe for her to visit. Though my siblings and I would stop by occasionally, we had all moved on in our own ways. The home that once felt like the center of our universe was now an empty structure, filled with echoes of the past. Keeping the house was no longer practical, and after much deliberation—and plenty of heartache—we made the difficult decision to sell.
It wasn’t an easy process. Not all of my siblings agreed, and for me, it felt like I was grieving my father all over again. Letting go of that house meant confronting the reality of my mom’s decline, the finality of our childhood, and the loss of a space where we could all gather. Sorting through our belongings, deciding what to keep, what to donate, and what to leave behind was emotionally exhausting. Every drawer, every closet held a lifetime of memories, making each decision feel impossible. We spent weeks reminiscing, packing, and hesitating before sealing the boxes, knowing that once we did, we were closing the door on a part of our history.
One day, after the house had been sold, I drove by, debating whether to stop and knock on the door. Maybe, just maybe, I could hold onto the past a little longer. But I kept driving. The house was no longer ours, and I had to accept that our memories didn’t reside in the walls, but within us. Even though I had known in my heart that this was the right decision, the finality of it still stung.
A New Perspective
Through this experience, I’ve come to understand, on a deeper level, what so many older adults and their families go through when they face the same decision. It’s never just about selling a house—it’s about saying goodbye to a life lived within those walls. The memories, the sense of security, the connection to independence—it all feels like it’s slipping away. Letting go of a home means more than just finding a new place to live; it means finding a way to carry the past with you while stepping into an uncertain future.
Now, when I work with families navigating this transition, I do so with greater empathy. I understand the hesitation, the emotional weight of it all. My role as a geriatric care manager isn’t just about logistics—it’s about guiding families through grief, helping them see that while a house may be left behind, the love, memories, and bonds that truly hold a family together will always remain. There is life beyond the home, even when it doesn’t seem possible to imagine.
Change is never easy, especially when it involves letting go of something that feels so deeply intertwined with who we are. But what I have learned is that the essence of home is not found in a structure, but in the love and connections we carry forward. While the house may belong to someone new, our family’s story will always be ours to cherish and hold close.