I have made reference here in other posts about a big decision and subsequent move that was the climax of 2012.
Let me tell you a little more about it.
You see, about 10 years ago my hubby and I made plans to start a family. We wanted a particular lifestyle for our future kids, and my hometown of Grafton seemed perfect. Hubby would completely change careers but there was plentiful work for us, our parents were both there, there was a network of friends already there and the town is just lovely. Plenty of cafes, good schools, sport, sport and more sport and one of the best waterways that I have ever seen in my life. The Clarence River, from the Gorge to Yamba, is just the most glorious waterway….
Anyway, so we consciously made a whole heap of decisions that resulted in us moving back to Grafton. With a few hiccups (hello Moree for 2 years), we settled right in. Master 7 first arrived and then Master 4. The boys started growing and we had friends, schools, sports, work and a great lifestyle. Life was good. For the first time in our adult lives, Hubby and I started to put down roots. Literally – vegie patches were constructed and planted, moving boxes finally were unpacked, fences were built and renovations planned on our home.
We took in our teenaged goddaughter and raised her for a few years and enjoyed raising our kids in, quite literally, a village – the neighbours knew who they were, their friends lived around the corner and we played sport with their teachers. The life started to get hectic.
2011-2012 were……tumultuous. Things ranged from the mildly dramatic, to the dishearteningly stressful. Relationships failed, illnesses and accidents were endured, tragedies occured, choices were tested, some people stood by us, and some people didn’t. There was a lot of loss in that period, and when I heal some more, I will probably tally a lot of gains as well, but it seemed more of a trade – we had to lose something to gain something, and those values did not always seem balanced…..
Anyway, one Saturday morning very late in 2012, my hubby found out that his position and the organisation that he works for “Would be deleted, sometime between that date and February 2013.”
This just weeks after the town just lost over 100 jobs with the closure of the Gaol.
We were gutted, and panicked. There were options, none were a good fit.
We kept it a secret. I was still finishing my Masters degree, and working full time shift work in the Emergency Department. Until a firm decision was made, in no way was I prepared to risk that job.
Tears were shed, frustrations let loose, angry words spoken, conversations started and hypothetical situations abounded. Hubby took it hard, and grieved every time we attended a social event, knowing that no matter how this ended, it would be his last with this group of friends.
All our hard work, effort and sacrifices were were on the line and being weighed and measured.
You can never truly know the pressures and priorities at work within a relationship or family unit, but with a little imagination you might be able to conjure up some of them.
But in the end it came down to,
“Do we stay or do we go?”
To stay was a gamble – I had work and could support the family, but if the population dropped with the job losses, and numbers dropped in the Emergency Department, would staffing be affected?
Do we go? We had worked SO HARD to move to and stay in Grafton – I had turned down career opportunities, Hubby had made career choices, we had made conscious decisions that we wanted to raise the kids near the grandparents and family and friends.
Is that worth anything at all if we become unemployed or bankrupt?
Of course the decision had many more factors than just the ones I listed. Essentially we had to slowly untangle ourselves from the ties that bind and boil it down to what ultimately our little family would need.
Do we stay?
Do we go?
Where do we go?
What do we need to make a move successful?
We decided on prerequisites for any relocation and started our research. This was all over a couple of weeks. And just before Christmas.
Then, knowing that there was no silver bullet, no perfect solution, we gathered our courage, gathered our cards, threw them in the air and waited to see where they would fall.
The logistics of any move are immense. The logistics of a move with 5 weeks notice, just before Xmas, without total support from your nearest and dearest, untangling what the kids need, and your teenaged foster daughter, and juggling the demands placed on you by other people, only ironing out details like renting a house, getting a job, as you go are unspeakable.
But they are possible.
I surprised myself. Normally hubby and I are a real crime fighting duo, and he is a king at logistics. Not this time. His superpower had ebbed, the kryptonite had done its job, he was out of this fight.
This one was up to me if anything was going to happen. I orchestrated the whole thing. Piece by piece. Success or failure of our family and its security would be solely my responsibility.
No pressure though!
It’s nearly June now. It’s a few months since I put the boys in the car and drove 12 hours in one day to make the move complete.
We’ve done it. On paper the move has been one of the best decisions we have made. Time will tell.
We grieve for what was. For what no longer is. For change brings loss as well as gain. But we are positive and always moving forward. Hubby and I have always been focused in the future, looking for solutions and we are resilient.
The journey isn’t finished till we die, and the path is not always mapped out.
Home is where the heart is, and my heart envelops the 3 men in my life. As long as I’m with them, I am home.