Lake House

I have made the decision to sell our lake house.  It goes on the market in just a few days.  I am struggling.    I knew it would be hard, but I did not realize how hard.  It has knocked me on my ass.  The grief is intense.  Crying daily.  Replaying memories.  The pain of going through closets and drawers and making decisions on what to do with all the things.  Constant reminders of Mark -his work boots on the storage room floor; all his fishing and hunting gear in the basement, in the shed, in the storage container;  wake surfboard in the closet, all the random ice cream containers of nuts and bolts sitting around the house and shed; tools and more tools everywhere…

The lake house was Mark’s happy place.

As a kid, going to the Lake of the Ozarks for weeks at a time was one of my fondest memories.  As a kid, Mark loved going to Indian Hills Lake.  He was a natural at water sports.   Together, we shared the same love for being by the water, boat rides, and skiing.  I remember when we were dating, we spent a weekend at Indian Hills Lake and were out on the boat talking about having a house on the lake one day.   So when we bought the lake house in 2013, it was a dream come true.

The lake house was Mark’s happy place.

When we first bought the house, we put a lot of work into it.  Painting every surface, renovating the kitchen, installing new flooring, building a bunk room in the basement for all the kids, and building a shed on the dock to house all the toys.  As the years went on, Mark always had a reason to go to the lake during the week or in the off-season to work.  He always had some project going on.  And I am pretty certain he just wanted to be at the lake and on the water fishing.  He always said, “When I am on the water fishing, it is just me and God and the fish, no distractions.”

The lake house was Mark’s happy place.

We made going to the lake a priority.  We spent almost every weekend at the lake in the summer with just the four of us or with family and friends.  We made friends with families in the community.  The kids had a group of friends who they hung with all day.  We spent hours upon hours boating, wakeboarding, tubing, swimming, fishing, soaking in the sun on the dock, throwing tennis balls to the dogs, eating family meals, sitting by the fire pit, and late-night boat rides.    As the kids got a little older, they would bring their friends.  We loved having the house filled with kids.  I cannot even count how many kids Mark taught how to wakeboard.  He was a great teacher and was determined to get every kid up.  One of my favorite things to do was sitting on the boat watching Mark and the kids wakeboard.  I enjoyed that more than wakeboarding myself. 

The lake house was Mark’s happy place.

Mark passed away at the lake house.  At the time he was the president of the homeowners association.  He had meetings during the week so he was at the house.  He passed away peacefully on the couch watching tv with Scout by his side.  It has always given me comfort knowing that Mark was at his happy place when he died.

After Mark died, the lake house was not the same.  It felt very empty and heavy to me.  I dreaded going there on the weekends.  I used to come to the lake and immediately feel peace and relaxed.  But now it just makes me sad.  It is a bold reminder that Mark is not with us. 

I really wanted to keep the lake house because we had so many good memories. I changed the décor a little and put up a lot of pictures of our family and friends enjoying the lake house.  I tried to change the energy by having my friends up for the weekend.  But it just never felt easier to walk through the door.   I feel like gave it my all, and now it is time to let it go. 

So many beautiful memories to hold on to. 

Now, I sit heavy with grief, saying goodbye to another chapter in my life.  The loss is real.  I know I have all these beautiful memories to cherish but that does not make this easier.  I am grieving the loss of Mark, the many memories at the lake, and more heartbreaking my memories I hoped for at the lake.  I would love to be able to share some beautiful words of insight, but all I can muster is that I know this is just one more thing that I have to walk through, and I am grateful for all my family and friends who are there to walk through it with me.   I know from experience that during times like these, God is molding and changing me, so I will just keep trudging.  As Mark often reminded me, “God has not brought you this far to abandon you.”

“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in the present of grief.”

“Clearly, we grieve the person we lost.  What people do understand is that is only part of it.  We grieve what we had and all we shared.  We grieve all the important things they have missed and will.  We grieve the future we were supposed to have together.  This list goes on. Grief is complicated.”