Home Means Different Things

Sometimes it requires letting go of what once was

Home Means Different Things at Different Times

Caregiving reshaped my idea of home. It became a place of constant demand—24/7, relentless, and often unforgiving. Yet with help, structure, and resilience, home could still be a place of love, care, and belonging.

Transitioning From The Caregiving Role

M, whose husband lived in the same ALF (Assisted Living Facility) as Lee for a time, met me for coffee recently. We talked about life after - she lost her husband almost 2 years ago, I lost Lee 1 month ago. I asked her about her connection to home and how it had changed.

“Home” Takes Many Forms

As we shared experiences it became clear that for both us “home” is not as much a physical structure but a feeling, a connection, a spirit. Something we had lost while on the caregiving journey with our husbands.

S, whose husband still lives at home, fears the day he may have to move to an ALF, and his “home” will change. And with a physical move, he will likely make connections with staff and residents, and have experiences, that she won’t share anymore. “Bob is kind, handsome, friendly…And I think—if he goes there, he may have a “girlfriend.” And he may not remember me. That bothers me… but I try to let it go.“

Both experiences resonate. Lee was at the center of what home meant to me. As he gradually slipped away, my feeling of home was broken from its moorings. I didn’t feel any connection to the physical space. When Lee moved to memory care, my connection to him as the full time, primary caregiver was severed - he no longer knew or recognized me.

What do you do when home no longer feels like home?

Research has documented 3 distinct phases of post-caregiving transitions: emptiness immediately after caregiving ends; closure of the caregiver journey; and moving towards a new life.

I’ve written about my **system** for belonging to home again - creating an open space that is inviting and welcoming, yet also a place of comfort and peace for me alone.

M. got back out in the world. Her close family included her in trips, dinners. She started saying yes to invitations. “What really started it was about six months after he passed—I got an invitation from church for a memorial mass. I hadn’t been going to church for years. Life just got busy. Kids, sports, everything. But I went—and I felt at home again. So slowly, I started going back.”

Returning to the church and the community it brings, restored her to a sense of being at home. M. found that going out can also mean going home.

S.’s path is different. She had to learn and manage the family finances, investments and real estate. Her husband had always handled it and now it was all on her. “We moved from a big home into a townhouse—which was good. But now I feel… trapped. He asks every morning: “What’s our agenda?” He watches TV all day. Sometimes I feel like the walls are closing in.”

S. has learned she only has to ask for help, and she can find peace in her home: “My sons are wonderful. On my birthday, they surprised me by staying overnight—just to be there. “

That showed her:

“I may feel alone… but I’m not alone.

I just have to ask for help.”

Belonging to Home means different things to different people - and it may also depend on their journey in life.

• Sometimes home is a place where we feel safe

• Sometimes it’s a feeling we have to rebuild

• Sometimes it’s found in community

• And sometimes it requires letting go of what once was

For those of us who have been caregivers—or are still in that role—this shift can be disorienting.

But it also opens the door to something new:

A different definition of home.

One that we create, intentionally, over time.

If this would be of value to you to hear more about how I restored my sense of community after 4 years of caregiving, Subscribe to Vicki’s Substack, “The Tender Warrior.”

As my gift to you, receive my free download What Joy Looks Like, simple ways you can reclaim your joy moment by moment.

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I write about ways to belong to yourself again (once you’ve lost her) in my weekly newsletter “The Tender Warrior.” Because— I truly had to be a warrior most days, but for the man who was the absolute love of my life.