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Sitting in the back seat of my Mom’s vehicle, on our way to what will be our new home. In the past couple of weeks I have been asked, what seems like, hundreds of times how I am feeling about moving. 

I’ve always said “exhausted”, but today my husband found a much better word to express how we are feeling: numb.

I have only just started to allow myself to consider how massive this move really is. We are leaving Canada’s largest city, our bustling, noisy, gritty, downtown home to live in a small town. In fact, we are not even in the town, we are outside of it.

And, although, I grew-up in the area, I’ve been away for 18 years. I’m looking forward to the slower pace and being able to do more outdoor activities with my boys. But, I have become a ‘city person’ in many ways, and I will miss the excitement, the diversity, the fact that there is always so much to do, and watching the sunset glistening on the high rises. I will miss the street meat and array of buskers. 

I’ve tried to picture, to imagine, what life may look like for us now, to try to already begin replacing some of these moments and memories with the great things to come, but it is not possible. You cannot reminisce on what has not happened.

And so, what is left to do but to allow myself just to embrace the grief that comes with such life-altering changes? It’s not always easy to embrace grief. We don’t like to feel pain. We avoid it if we can. But, pain is an important part of grief because it allows you to really reflect on how much something has meant to you.

We became a family in Toronto. 

Therefore, here I sit in the back of my mom’s car, embracing the grief. Trying to wrap my ahead around the enormity of what is happening and allow myself to push through the numbness and feel.

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