Leaving

In months past, I was certain that even if I were lucky enough to meet somebody that I wanted to settle down with again, I would never be willing to leave Cincinnati.

'I have too much going on here', I thought. 'I could never leave-he'd either have to be local or willing to relocate'.

I was settled here in Cincinnati. I embraced life here in the only way I know how-fully and with passion. Our support network here is strong and large. The ward that we attend has been an incredible source of strength, and the friendships we have made within its boundaries are fulfilling. In the last 2 1/2 years, our ward has formed a protective circle around my family. I have called-too often-on people to help. With the kids, with a shoulder to cry on, with help getting into my attic or fixing my lawn mower.

School has been what I've spent the last 2 years focusing on. Countless sleepless nights, papers written, flashcards memorized, and textbooks read have filled my time. There has always been a test to study for, or a project to complete. My life as a widow has been centralized around my education-the two are linked together. I went back to school because my life changed, and every time things got difficult it was hard not to imagine that if only he had lived, everything would be different. I'd have more help with the kids, I wouldn't have to spend all my free time studying, I wouldn't be so lonely.

Eventually, I feel like I reached a place where I didn't do that as much. I found my balance as a student-a tenuous, incredibly difficult one-but a balance nonetheless. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief when classes ended last spring. I was burnt out, exhausted, and frustrated with life in general. The loneliness of the last 2+ years was weighing heavily on me, and the isolation of my classwork was contributing to a general sense of restlessness and depression. I looked forward to the summer and simultaneously dreaded September when it would come to a close.

I needed a break.

I can't recount how badly I needed a break. I was strung out with school, and although one section of it was completed-I knew that the worst was still approaching. I had finally completed the required courses for application into the nursing program at the University of Cincinnati. It was for this program that every hour of schoolwork for the last 2 years had been geared toward. Admission into the nursing program is exclusive, and the curriculum is demanding. It lasts 3 years, and admission into it would consume my life. I sat in my advisors office one morning in May and filled out the 1 page application. I clicked the 'submit' button, and immediately broke into exhausted sobs. I knew I wouldn't hear whether or not I had been accepted for months, and the suspense and tension of the summer stretched out before me in one endless path.

And then I met Kevin.

Kevin made the weeks fly by, and as we made plans for our future, all my hesitancy about leaving Cincinnati vanished. I embraced relocating-with excitement we searched online together for houses, sending links back and forth and discussing pros and cons. We began to plan our wedding, and I eagerly anticipated the day when we would be able to live together as husband and wife. A new city, a new family member, a new life.

During it all, my nursing application quietly flit across the back of my mind. In moments of solitude, it gnawed at me. I had worked so hard for admission into the program, but leaving for Toledo meant I would be taking a break from school for the time being.

There was never any doubt about leaving Cincinnati. There's never been any doubt about marrying Kevin. When I finally received the letter from admissions stating the results of my application, my decision was already made.

I can't wait to become his wife. I can't wait to explore our new city, and to figure out the dynamics of our family. In 40 years, I know I will look back and be grateful that I took a leap of faith and married Kevin.

Today I can honestly say I'm relieved not to be returning to school next month. But just because it was an easy decision to make doesn't mean it wasn't a painful one.

I can't promise that my eyes won't stray to the rear view mirror and tear up as we pull out of Cincinnati on moving day. I can't promise that there won't be moments in Toledo where I wish my friends and family were close, and that I could slip back into the old familiarity of life here. I do know, though, that it's alright. That no matter what happens to us, somebody much bigger than us or anything else is in charge.

He's got my back, just like He always has.