House of Quiet Light

It was a Friday. Chaz's caregiver was with him. I was having an incredibly difficult day. I had to get away - take a break - find quiet. I kissed Chaz on the forehead, grabbed my phone and told Aswan, I'm heading out. I have my phone if you need anything.

Where was I going? Not sure. Just driving. Thoughts began to assail - questions I had been asked - from family, from friends. Where will you go? What will you do? After?

After. The spectre that loomed, over every moment.

Where would I go? What would I do? I kept driving as I tried to answer those questions. Ticking off the possibilities - move near one of our children - go back 'home' - stay here. Stay here. Yes. In our new found 'home' that we discovered together - a place that had become 'home' for both of us. But, not in the house. I can't stay in the house - the house that has come to represent illness, disease, loss, mortality.

Keep driving.

I decided then that I needed to find a new house, a new property, for after.... I love our new community. It's a peninsula separating two bays - filled with inspiring vistas, birdsong, and many places of quiet. Yes, this is where I want to stay.

I drove by several homes, listed for sale. Nothing felt right. Then I remembered a neighborhood Chaz and I had discovered the previous summer while surveying ospreys for a local environmental organization. There were 17 active osprey nests in that neighborhood which kept us going back, again and again. We observed and documented courtship, nest building, egg laying, incubating, hatching, fledging and finally flying. So exciting, each step. We loved the ospreys.

Yes, let's go there. I drove by a few more listings advertised in that neighborhood - still nothing. I looked at my digital map. There, several streets along the water. Let's go there.

With this new 'project' came new energy. My sadness began slipping away. Still tired, but better.

Then as I drove around a bend, I saw it. A house for sale. Sign in the yard. Waterfront. It's a humble house I thought - unassuming - but with potential. I'll have to look it up when I get home. I did try, that evening. But I couldn't find it, not on the agent's website or via search. Oh well, I guess it's not meant for me, or for now.

The next day, a Saturday, Chaz and I were alone. I sat on the edge of the bed and said, I want to have a difficult conversation. One I need to have, but you can stop me if you want to. He didn't. I shared with him my thoughts, questions, fears - where will I go? What will I do? After? We both cried, so much. Then I shared my hope - that we would find my 'after house' together, now. Chaz and I have purchased many properties together over the years. Those 'projects' always fill us with excitement, energy, hope. I wanted to experience that again, with him, one last time. "Can we do that Chaz? Together? Now?" He cried. I cried. Then he said, "Let me think about it."

The very next day, Sunday, I received an email. Chaz uses an Eyegaze computer to communicate, a marvel of technology, but laborious. His communication is often short, stunted, clipped. I opened the email. The subject line simply read, "waterfront property'. In the body was one link, not two, three or several choices, just one. I clicked it. It was THE house, the one I had seen on Friday. The one I couldn't

find. The one that would become - The House of Quiet Light.