Leavin' on a Jet Plane

My husband and I (and two cats) made the move from Minnesota to Ireland on Friday.  His position at work had been transferred to Ireland, and we decided to go for it.  Ireland has long called to me, and I never thought I'd be able to visit, much less live here.

The grief over losing the home I'd known for 50 years hasn't hit me yet.  I was too consumed by stress during the move; and, during the flight on Thursday night, I was too worried how the cats would weather the experience to think about anything else.

But I know that homesickness will hit me at some point.  Now, when it's quiet in our new apartment, I can feel little flashes of sadness.  I unsubscribed to some US-based or local business emails and even something that seemingly innocuous caused a pang of grief.  I love Minnesota, which made leaving for an entirely different country even harder.

A few years ago, I had re-started writing letters to Lissa.  In my last letter to her (one she never answered), I mentioned to her that she and I should visit Ireland one day.  We never got a chance to even talk about it, much less make it happen.  So being here, that weighs on me.

As with everything else in life, there is a balance between gain and loss, between joy and sorrow.  I will shed tears for the things I left behind, but I will also look ahead with pleasure over the new things I will experience in this unfamiliar country.