Home

What is a home? I suspect that the answer is different for different people. For me, it’s the house we are selling. I grew up here but didn’t move here until I was 37.

My first night in this house was the most alone I’ve ever felt. I was about to finalize a divorce; I was financially ruined, and I was about to learn how to be a dad. I had 1 week to make the place safe to live in for my 4-year-old daughter and 6-year-old son. We had no plumbing in the house, exposed electrical wires, appliances, furniture, or anything, just my clothes, tools, guitars, and a pit in my stomach.

I had worked 60 to 80 hours a week for most of Ian and Elena’s lives up to this point. And sure, I had changed a few diapers and dried a tear or two but for the most part, I was at work. Not only had I missed a lot, but I also didn’t know how to be a dad. I had never been alone with my kids for longer than an hour and was terrified.

I would like to tell you I did well and took to it like a fish to water but that would be a lie. I was a train wreck of a human. Many, many nights I’d fall asleep crying and telling myself “At least no one died today, and everyone ate” I had no frame of reference for this life.

I was sober when we moved in but that didn’t last long. 4 or 5 months maybe. Something had to give, and my sobriety was the weakest straw.

I did my best to shield my kids from my addictions, but I couldn’t hold it together any longer. If I wasn’t blackout drunk or too high to speak, I mainly just yelled. I would pass out on the couch in the living room most nights and think “Please don’t let my kids find my body, not like this.”

That went on for 1 1/2 years until my last night out which ended in this house too. I left my home in handcuffs covered in someone else’s blood and I have never been lower.

Two days later I came home. My furnace had died while I was in jail, it was -15 in my house. The pipes were broken, and nothing worked, I was back to square one. I laid on the couch and detoxed in the subzero temps and just waited to die. The convulsions would surely kill me or so I hoped but clearly, I’m alive.

I spent most of the next year with my head down and mouth closed. When I wasn’t in court or a meeting, I was remodeling the house and trying to repair my relationship with Ian and Elena. Over the next 6 years, life would take many unexpected turns and this house would see them all. I’ve hosted friends, held meetings, had my heart broken and I’ve laughed until I’ve cried. My mom got to visit me here once and I was sober and got to make Thanksgiving dinner for her. It was on my stove in my house, and I bought all of it. It’s nothing fancy but I feel like a king compared to where I started in this life.

I got married, right here in this house. My wife has helped turn this house into a home. We’ve had two more children, and this is the only home they’ve ever known. It’s the longest Ian and Elena have ever lived anywhere, it’s the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere, it’s our home. 

It’s served us well, but it’s time to move on. This place wasn’t big enough for 3 when we started and today, we are 6 strong.

Saying goodbye has been a very hard thing for me to do. I never thought a guy like me would have anything to call his own.

It’s only fair I post this here; I started this blog under the name “Now What” as an outlet for my divorce. I’ve deleted most of those writings, there were some things, some thoughts that no one should ever see. It’s taken me 8 years to learn the answer to that question, now what? Now we move on, we put one foot in front of the other and we just keep moving, that’s all there is. I’ve never seen any turn that my life has taken in advance, not far enough in advance to make a difference at least. Life just happens. It only happens however, if I’m alive and involved; so now we move on.