Everyone keeps asking me, "when are you going back to Buffalo?" I keep saying, "August" since August 22nd is when the 5K is taking place in Matt's honor, but I still haven't made reservations for the kids and I. Normally when anticipating a trip, I can't wait to book the flight and make arrangements, but for some reason, I've been procrastinating this one something awful. Next month. It's just around the corner, and I have yet to make any concrete plans.
Again, acting as my own shrink, I've taken it upon myself to analyze the situation, and I haven't had to delve too deeply to come up with the answer...
After Matt died, I struggled trying to survive without him in a life we created together. Five months after his death, I decided the best solution for me was to run away. Get as far away as I could from my former life that no longer existed. Four months after I made the decision, my children and were living in our new home on the other side of the country.
In my case, moving away has helped. But going back to the Buffalo area next month will be the first time going back to the place I lived my entire life, but now with no home; the home we built and shared is no longer ours. We have many friends and family who are willing to take us in while were there, but going back as a visitor instead of a resident is a very strange sensation. The whole landscape is different now. I only lived five months there without my love (a very blurry five months), and have now been in our new home just about a year without him. When I think about going back, the phrase "returning to the scene of the crime" keeps ringing through my head.
I'm scared. I'm scared of the flood of emotions that might drown me when I hit the soil. Scared to see how everyone has changed. Scared for everyone there to see how we've changed. As much as I am so looking forward to seeing everyone we've missed, I am so afraid to go back.