I just want to go home, wherever that is. Do you know what I mean?

No one ever tells you what it is like to be an adult without anyone above you, when suddenly you are the one up to bat. First you lose a grandparent, then two, then three, then all. Our lives have never been the same since my grandma died. The whole Family kind of scattered and then fell apart.

But what happens when you start to lose your parents?

This post is going to be for those of us finding ourselves as the next generation. The ones up to the plate, but with no skills and training with how to even hold the bat much less hit the ball. I have been ill prepared to suddenly be it. I want to scream to the world that I’m just a baby still, but every look in the mirror tells me different.

I am Homesick.

For where, I don’t know. Home doesn’t exist anymore, not the way I remember it to be. Home is Christmas at my grandmas with presents stretching out beneath the tree so far that we can’t even walk in the room anymore. It’s sliding down her hill on a sled built by my grandfather in the winter snow. It’s family, and lots of it. A home, and not just a house.

When I moved to Orlando, I finally felt like I had found it. Home. My forever city, but forever only lasted a year. A YEAR. I always wondered why people just didn’t up and move to the city of their choice. After all, the borders are open, but now I understand why. Family. If all your family is in one state, that’s where you are. It’s not good to be alone without your people, and sometimes you have to make sacrifices to make that happen.

I moved to Nevada to be near family and it turned out to be a moot point. I’m alone anyways. I have one sick family member and another that is uninvolved here. Thankfully, my daughter is moving here until said family member passes and then we are moving to Michigan, where I grew up. Why would I move to Michigan when Orlando, Florida is where I want to be?

Because I am homesick.

And home is not a place, but your people.

HOME IS NOT A PLACE. IT’S YOUR PEOPLE.

What’s missing from that sentence, even though it’s true? You, my friend, are one of your people. I have thought about this a lot this year, this period of my life where I am alone. Even if I lost every single one of the people that I love, I can never lose myself unless I choose to forget that I have me. That’s a loaded sentence, so you might want to read it again.

I can feel homesick but as long as I have me I have my home. I am my safe place, my haven, my go-to, ride-or-die, and the same is true of you. Wherever you go, there you are. You can’t leave or divorce yourself, even if you have wanted to sometimes.

The feeling of homesick is basically a feeling of losing that fundamental Foundation of security that your people bring. It feels scary in the world alone. But what if you decided that home is within? No one can take that away, but God and you. What I am truly homesick for is for security, peace, and safety. A feeling of belonging. Is it nice when others can fill that for us? You bet your butt. We were not created to be alone, that’s why it feels so bad.

Florida is famous for their beaches. I went through a beach phase when I moved there. I was at the beach every day. In Florida, the houses are built as close to the water as possible because that’s why we live there. To be close to the ocean. But a house never won in the battle of mother nature. If you build your home near the ocean, the ocean can take away that house any time it wants. Water is a powerful thing. It will sweep your home away and take it out to sea and leave nothing but the foundation.

Our internal homes can get swept out to sea for many reasons. Death, divorce, illness, job loss, miscarriages, and financial troubles. When your parents die. It hurts when people or things are taken away from us. My home went poof!

The foundation is still there though. Get up right now and look in a mirror. Who do you see? You are still here. You are the foundation. If you are going through a period of losing your home, whatever that means for you, remember to look at what you have left. You.

My grandmother fought cancer for over ten years before it took her from us. I go and visit her grave when I am in Michigan, every single time. Living in Michigan will be good for me. To walk the same streets I used to and go to the places that brought me happiness and love in the past. But if that gets taken away from me too, I know I will be alright. Home is not an address but within me.

What do people in Florida do when their homes get swept away? They rebuild them, or they move and rebuild in a new city. They can find the strength to do that because they have their foundation. Themselves. Have you ever watched someone talk after losing everything to a hurricane or tornado? What do they always say?

Things and a home can be replaced. Our lives cannot.

What you lost can not be replaced. I know that. But back to the mirror. Take a good look.

You still have you, and in you, you have your home. Welcome home, my friend.

Much love,

Amy Tangerine

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