My "Normal" Life and How it Broke

Chapter 1: How We Left

How the heck did our crazy family from Idaho end up running a farm in quite literally, the middle of nowhere?

Our story starts with heartbreak. Caitlin (that’s me, the narrator) went through multiple layers of hell. The first being the death of my selfless, smart and sweet mother in 2018 from Stage 4 breast cancer after a long six year battle that she endured valiantly.

As an only child from a divorced family, I found myself at 28 years old, with no siblings or family, planning her funeral with my husband Dustin by my side. To say we were lost in a hurricane of grief, paperwork, probate and confusion would be an understatement.

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In the last days of my mothers life, per her request, we dropped ours to travel 3000 miles to Mecca; my childhood home in Florida. We rushed to spend my mothers last days with her and what we had no way of knowing would turn into literal months after.

At the time my mother called saying the end was near, my small family of 4 lived in the rural rolling mountains of Idaho. (86 miles from the nearest Wal-Mart and McDonalds) don’t even think of questioning the local of the nearest Target or major airport- it will just depress you which this part of the story does quite well on its own.

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My mother and I experienced our one big and only rift almost a year to the day she died. A remedy hugged out and repaired fully on her death bed, our peace returned. Before she went to lay among the daisies I looked with ferocity into her dark brown-eyed soul as I held her ailing body and she, mine. “promise me.” I said, gripping her arms tighter. “PROMISE ME you’ll send me a sign you’re still with me always. promise me” she calmly touched my face with her hand turning colder and whispered a strong and resilient “YES”

After her passing Dustin and I collectively stumbled through grief and pitfall. He pulling my weight forward when my soul could only run back, back to her, forgetting there was even such thing as a “future”.

The grief escalated when I, a young woman looking for guidance from my family, learned that nobody from my mothers close and large family would be able to attend the funeral. Before the blur of arrangements could take place by a grief-stricken child, the next pit opened to swallow up a clueless Alice in Wonderland. Days before her funeral my mother’s nefarious, swindling and newly ex-beau snuck to the house in the dead of night and stole her car, our only form of transportation, out of the driveway of my childhood home and proceeded to call the police and report us trespassers in our own domain.

To add insult to injury he prolonged our pain and suffering for an extra month, taking me to court for my full inheritance ( of which he got none)

After the verdict was delivered in court, the injured half-breed of a man sat gawking in his seat, upset his 3 year con on a dying woman had been for not. He banged his flabby hands on the table and to no one audaciously and threateningly spits “so who’s going to stop me from going over there huh?”

My Army veteran husband laughed out of amusement at this 65 year old petulant child and replied, sure voiced and

firmly “ME” as he held the heavy court room door open for his traumatized wife to duck out of.

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Packing up and preparing to leave my childhood home behind for sale for the final time, I stood in the front yard of my youth dripping with late summer sun-drenched memories. I looked up at the sky and said “Mom…. God….Universe… I am so lost. Give me a sign. I have no idea what to do next or where home is”

I closed my eye as a cool breeze answered by blowing over my shoulders and wrapping me in the love I understood the universe had loaned out to me in the form of my mother and obviously still existed. Though nothing was settled and the future muddled, I felt the wind whisper “you’re ok, you just don’t know it yet”.

My insides spilled tears of relief that through the partition of death I could still feel that love that had been hers to me and only me.

At that touch of unexpected comfort, I wrapped the horror of the last few months in a trash bag and left it at the curb. Able to drive away knowing the past happiness my family shared for over 20 year there now lived inside of me. I courageously made one last right out of the driveway, up the street and into the unknown of rural Georgia.

Part 2 - coming soon

"Bear patiently, my heart - for you have suffered heavier things." - Homer.