How Losing a Parent Changes the Meaning of Home

For the first 18 years of my life, I lived in a ranch style home with three very small bedrooms with my mother, father and sister in Montpelier, Ohio, USA. When I attended college, I would drive the short two and a half hours to get home for the holidays and for summer breaks. And then when I moved to New York City after graduating from college, I would begin flying home. I never really considered my place in New York as “home”.

When my parents split up in 2009, I was living in Florida, and the meaning of home began to evolve. My father remained in my childhood home and my mother moved into the beautiful lake home that her and my father had built together. However after my father and I had a falling out soon after the divorce had settled, my thoughts of home had quickly shifted to the lake home. It was a strange transition away from the place I had called home for 30 years, but it felt comforting to embrace a new place of home that my mother loved.

Re-Visiting Childhood Home

After my father remarried and eventually moved out of the family home that I grew up in, I never thought I would go back into my childhood home ever again. However, whenever I visited my hometown, I would always drive down the street where I grew up just to see what the home looked like from the outside.  During one particular “drive-by”, I was showing my boyfriend at the time where I grew up. I had heard that my father had sold the home after he moved in with his new wife, so I wasn’t quite sure who lived there.

As I slowed the car as we approached the home, memories began to pop into my mind as my eyes moved around to different areas of the property, remembering what I was doing at particular moments that took place years ago.

As my car came to a very slow crawl, I saw a woman in the living room stand up and begin to walk to the front door, obviously noticing that a car had slowed down in front of her home. My eyes widened and I wasn’t quite sure what I should do as I watched the front door open. She stepped onto the patio and stared at us staring back at her. After a few awkward moments, I decided to roll down my window and tell her that this was my childhood home so she wouldn’t get creeped out.

Next thing I know, we are walking into the front living room after she invited us inside to see the home. It was a surreal experience to be back inside the place where I spent my entire childhood. My father’s handiwork still on display in the bathroom, kitchen and other parts of the home. As I walked into my room, all of the emotions that I experienced as a child flashed into my head. Comfort. Sadness. Fear. Excitement. Taking me through the formative years that built the person I am today. But while this was my childhood home, the feeling of home had escaped. It no longer was home to me.

New Home

Over the past ten years, my mother’s lake home was now home. Whenever I would tell people I was going home, the lake home was the image that popped into my mind’s eye. After I left my job in New York City in 2017 and began traveling the world, people would ask me where I am from. Since I technically don’t have a home anymore, it has been strange to answer this question: Do I say Ohio where I grew up? Do I say New York City which was the last place I lived? Do I say Indiana because that is where my mother’s home is located? After some time trying to figure out how to answer this question, I began to say a combination of the three to explain to people that I really didn’t have a home anymore. I am now a global nomad.

Last summer, I moved all of my belongings into my sister’s basement in the new home that she had purchased and split my time between her house and my mother’s house when I was in the area. I decided to continue traveling during the fall season and flew home to my mother’s house for Thanksgiving, which would become our last with my mother.

Lost Sense of Home

However now that I am out in the world traveling again, my sense of home is really messed up. While the physical location of a home is what pop’s into our mind when someone asks us “where are you from?” or “where do you live?”, what really is happening is that our mind is thinking about the people that are there or the things that are symbolic of a home for you.

My mother was home to me. It wasn’t the physical structure, it was her. Each place she lived was home. And now that the physical structure where she lived is cleaned out and rented and she is no longer physically here, I am not sure where home is anymore. In fact, I feel really lost. I don’t have any sense of home. Sure, I have a room at my sister’s house, but that doesn’t feel like home to me. When I went home for the holidays, I went to see my mother. She was home.

Where is Home Now?

The first year of a loved one passing is full of firsts. First birthday my mom didn’t call. First mother’s day I didn’t buy a card and wish my mother a Happy Mother’s Day. And Thanksgiving is here – the first Thanksgiving without my mother. Thanksgiving was one of her favorite holidays since she loved hosting her family in her home and bringing everyone together. I can still see the joy on her face having everyone she loved in the same room.

I have loved Thanksgiving for the same reasons that my mother loved this holiday. Bringing everyone together to pause and give thanks. This Thanksgiving will certainly not be the same. In fact, I am choosing to be out of the United States since I won’t visibly see the symbols of the holiday around me as other countries do not celebrate this holiday. I’m not sure exactly where I will be, but I know I will be thinking of my mother. And how thankful I am that she is my mother. How she was my home.

This is my new normal. I am trying to figure out what home means to me now. And if home has a place, where exactly home is for me, especially since I have begun living a location independent lifestyle. For someone who felt confident knowing where home has been for most of my life, it’s a strange feeling now not knowing where home is. I am sure one day it will become apparent to me. But for now, I continue my journey. Embracing each moment along the way and remembering that life is not guaranteed. 

Please give your loved ones and friends an extra hug when you see them this holiday season. Happy Thanksgiving!