There is a Reason Why It's Called Plan B. Because it's Not Plan A.
I saw this thing the other day that said something like,
"When people lose their spouse, they also often end up losing their homes, income, and friends."
It's so strange, I know exactly how we lost our house, but I can't yet figure out how this happened to me.
Five years ago, Dan and I started renting this little starter house in an adorable neighborhood out in the country. It had a huge yard. It was quiet, there was a hiking trail nearby, it was a great school. Except for the small size of the house, (which would never do for the four kids we wanted,) it was perfect. It was our Plan A, with the intention of moving up to Plan A+.
I loved our house. I loved it more than Dan did, but he loved it too. Baby Girl loved our house. We had always planned to buy a bigger house one day when we were ready. We made a million fantastic memories in that house. We also had that one terrible memory, where my husband died, but even after that, I still loved our house. The beautiful memories we made overshadowed that bad one.
After Dan died I thought,
"This house is more than big enough for Baby Girl and me. I will just keep renting it for a few years while I get a job and when the landlord is tired of it, I will buy it from him."
Fifteen months after Dan died, I felt like I was just starting to get my feet under me. That maybe, maybe we could make it, maybe. I had recently been to the doctor for anxiety pills and anti-depressants and that was helping a lot.
One day, I was grocery shopping with my cousin. I answered my phone as she ran off to the bathroom. It was the property manager for my landlord. They were selling my house, and I had ninety days to get out.
"I'll buy it!" I said. "I'll buy it right now!" She told me how much the landlord was asking for it, and how I didn't fall on the floor right there is beyond me. Maybe it's because I was holding on to the cart. Housing prices in my area are skyrocketing right now and there was no way I could afford it. Flat out, no way.
I had just lost my husband and now again, without any choice or any control, I was losing my house. The house I loved. The house my husband died in. The house where our best memories were. The house where baby girl said good night to daddy for the last time. MY HOME. OUR HOME.
My cousin came back from the bathroom and I collapsed into her arms and cried. She had no idea what was going on. I was fine two minutes ago. We left our carts in the middle of the store and went home.
I had to get out. I had no choice. I had to pack up all of our things, all of Dan's things. I had to decide which of his things I was going to keep. Again, something I was not ready to do. I had to find somewhere for Baby Girl and me to live.
I had two requirements:
1: I was going to buy a house so that no one could ever kick us out again on a whim.
2: It had to be in the same school district. Baby Girl had already lost her dad and her home. I was not going to let her lose her school too.
This caused two problems:
1: I have no job, no spouse with a job, and bad credit. Nobody in their right mind was going to give me a loan.
2: I couldn't afford anything in our school district.
I was pretty sure I was screwed. Through a friend, I got in touch with a realtor who was an expert in our area. I told her what I was looking for, and what my budget was, and she said,
"That doesn't exist, you can't do it." Then I told her about my dead husband, and getting kicked out of my house and she said,
"I am going to find you a house." She introduced me to a mortgage broker who said I couldn't get a loan with my bad credit. I told her about my dead husband and the house. She said,
"I will get you a loan."
We found a house. It is a mile away from our old house. It's almost exactly the same as our old house, down to layout and square footage. It's in a great quiet neighborhood. It's a great little house. It needs a lot of work, which is why I can afford it. I am looking forward to making it my own. Every time I go look at it I get a good feeling, and like it better. It is perfect for Baby Girl and me. It will be ours by the time school starts; we are just waiting on paperwork.
It is Plan B. It is not Plan A. Plan A involves a husband that's alive, four kids, a big home, and a few acres to play on. I truly love our new house, and I am very grateful to the people that helped me get it. It is not the house Dan and I would have picked out together. It is not our dream house, and this is not our dream life.
This is Plan B, and while Plan B is a good plan, even a great plan, I still want Plan A. Plan B doesn't have Dan in it. Dan has never seen this new house. Dan will not get to vote on the paint colors. Dan and I will not discuss where the couch should go, or what cupboard to put the dishes in. Dan will not come walking down the hall. Dan will not hog the bathroom. Dan will not play with Baby Girl on the living room floor. Dan will not swing Baby Girl from her rope swing in the back yard. Dan will not bring me coffee as I sit cuddled on the couch on a rainy day. Dan will not hold me at night, and I will not have memories of him in my room. It will be my room now, not our room. We will have no memories of Dan in this house.
Many people have commented on how this new house will be good for us; how it will be good to get out of that "death" house, how it will help us move on. I disagree. I love Plan B house. I just don't see how not having memories of the love of my life in our new house is a good thing. It's a sad thing.
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