Moving Directions

As an adult, I’ve moved 6 times.  Some of my changes in residence were moving away from something (first marriage failed, apartment too small for growing family, unexpectedly unemployed) and some were moves toward something (new relationship, new job, surprise small inheritance that emboldened me to make a crazy move.) 

We are increasingly a world of people on the move.  Migrants, immigrants, emigres, refugees. My life will never come close to that of a refugee, but all humans share this basic pattern, that sometimes we move to get away, and other times we move toward something new.

The average American moves at least 12 times in their lifetime, or every 5 years (depending on how you read the stats – your mileage may vary.  Younger people are now moving more often.)  Those figures include childhood moves.   I know people who moved almost every year as a child, different schools and friendships formed and then left behind, over and over.  I am very grateful my parents were able to stay in the same suburban New Jersey house for my whole first 18 years, while they took jobs all over the greater NYC area.  For children the moves away seem especially painful.

After our various adult moves, my husband and I finally settled into this house, and we just realized this month that we’ve been here 20 years! I’ve never lived that long in any one place in all my 65 years.  These two decades have been anything but consistent.  My kids grew from elementary school to adulthood and marriage.   Like my parents in that New Jersey house, I’ve had several different jobs while living here.  But I’ve slept each night in the same bed, shopped at the same stores, learned the local roads and parks and libraries and schools. 

I imagine I have a few more moves in my future.  I don’t expect to take a job in a new city, but this house may not work well if I live to old age. It may be too remote and labor intensive to live in alone.  The older we get we start to think about where we want to die, what house, what town.  If we have a choice.

Most Americans say they want to die at home, and expect to, but the stats remind us to be a little more realistic: 75% of us will die in hospital or some kind of nursing facility.   Even though I’ve done some planning and saving, I still worry about these future moves.  The day will come when I have to move in both directions.  I will move away from my familiar life here, and towards my last move in this life.

This business of moving towards death is on my mind because I just helped a dear elderly neighbor come home from the hospital and die in his own home.  My friend’s life makes mine look like a nomad’s – he had lived for 50 years in the same small cabin he built in the woods.  As he aged he was increasingly reluctant and unable to leave the house.  He did no moving, either away or toward. 

I had envied him his simple house and life, but I saw how his world shrunk as he aged.  He had no choice but to stay where he was.  I worry about waiting too long for a move.  His stuff piled up around him.  I offered to help organize it, but he declined.  I think it gave him comfort, memories.  Not having moved for 50 years, he was never forced to lighten the load.  Now my friend’s nephews are cleaning and clearing out the cabin, and all his stuff is moving out without him. 

Unlike my neighbor, I have children who will probably take care of me and help me move, maybe in with them.  We sometimes felt a little sorry for our friend, but he chose his life, and was so adored by neighbors like me that we willingly helped him make that very last move from hospital to home and from home to death. 

I guess that’s the best we can ask for, that our last move is easy, and not alone.

Copyright © Deborah Streeter