Since I came home from Australia on Friday April 21st I've lived in my parent's house in Glenageary, not far from myself and Liane's place in Glasthule. They've been incredible in so many ways. They've both been understanding, loving, thoughtful and positive. Whenever I've come home and collapsed they've picked me up. When I've needed space they've stepped back. They helped me through the toughest part of all at the start and shared tears with me throughout. I can't think of how I'd possibly have made it this far without them.
Since Tuesday night I've been living back in my house where myself and Liane had built a warm and cosy home. It's been tough. She permeates every room and most of our belongings in the house. Before I came home she'd made a point of rearranging the place, hanging some long forgotten artwork and even replacing the broken kettle (subject of an ongoing and impressive standoff between us). The house looked like she'd just popped out for a while - her bags where they usually sit and her jackets hanging under the stairs...
So much of who we are and what we made is all around me here. And with it comes comfort and a sense of grounding. I don't know if I'll always feel this way but for now home is very much where my heart is. I feel like being here and I think rebuilding here will be good for me. I plan on changing things - in fact we had summer plans together to paint the front of the house, replace the front door, change the bathroom, revamp the yard, get new furniture - and I feel like following through on those plans will help me and be a nod towards Liane; a sort of completion of plans for the two of us.
There are so many steps on this journey, but the smaller I make them the easier it gets. One day at a time, one meal here at a time, one room at a time and soon home will be somewhere different, but hopefully as warm and as welcoming. Time will tell.