Posted by: Ed Deiss | September 29, 2022

A Letter to My Home of 19 Years

Dear 10310 Althea Bend Court,

It was hard to leave you, really hard. The times we have shared range every emotion that mankind can experience, and you were there to share and lean on through all of them. I have been with you since your beginning. I remember how you took shape, with the wood framing, mounds of dirt being moved around, and talking with your builders. I will always be your first homeowner and I can say the man I was when we met in 2003 is better for it being under your roof when I said goodbye on August 22, 2022.

Before I left you, the pain of preparing for it was felt in both body and soul. Going through all the kids’ rooms and closets, the attic, the sun room, family room, kitchen, and having memories triggered of our times together was a lot to bear. They represented moments in life we shared, and I would be drawn back into your steady presence within your walls that provided strength, stability, shelter, and comfort.

“God sometimes takes us into troubled waters not to drown us, but to cleanse us.” – Unknown

You watched me go through a lot, including the pain that results from betrayal and experience the Strength of Scars. Yet you were a sanctuary for me, Will, Rachel, and Zoe as I rewove the pain into my purpose as a single parent (including starting this blog in 2012). Through prayer, faith, 3am friends, church family, great neighbors, relating with other Dads, exercise, and running, I got my bearings, gained strength and self-confidence. So much so, that I decided to take a chance, and follow my heart as I trained for my first and several half-marathons and marathons, and you provided a place to rest and recover in many ways.

Playing hoops in the driveway with Will, Rachel waiting for me at home to paint her room together, watching Coyote and Road Runner cartoons with Zoe before she went to bed, all while being grateful they ate my cooking. Sorry about setting off all those smoke alarms trying to get dinner on the table; good thing the fire department did not hear them though the International Space Station likely did. After they were in bed, folding laundry while watching Everybody Loves Raymond with Chatham (our cat), I enjoyed laughing again. Thanks for using your walls to not let the laughs carry too much through the house as the kids slept. All the Halloweens, and playing referee when Rachel and Zoe played Candy Trade. The Thanksgivings, including the one I was able to pull off on my own, and we all enjoyed it. Remember Christmas mornings? Including the one where I gave them each a personalized invitation to join me on an adventure to Singapore. Remember their faces?! Priceless. As was the adventure itself to where their Dad grew up. Seven years as a single parent; all of those years with you. I thought I might lose you when I got laid off from jobs twice during that time. I was not going to let you go that easy.

That is why letting you go was hard. How could it not be? The days of what I thought were ordinary living, were extraordinary times that I now treasure. I knew they would be and realizing the memory rewind button can get rusty with time, I wrote a letter to my older self. Being in your presence when Zoe got off the school bus in elementary school and hugging me at the front door. We would get her homework buddy, Chewy (our Guinea Pig) out of her cage and on the kitchen table as she did her homework; Chewy was fueled by carrots. The kids’ sleepovers, all of them….thanks for keeping me company as I didn’t get any sleep. Enjoying Friday night movie and pizza night, Rachel loved those. How about the time VCU went to the Final Four in 2011? Will and I were watching and high-fiving each other as it happened before our eyes. The summer neighborhood swim meets, we didn’t mean to keep you up too late wondering where we were as we were so happy to get back to you after each one. We experienced that each summer certainly had it’s own story.

Emotions are like vacuum cleaners of the soul. In order to leave it, need to grieve it; In order to bear it, need to share it; In order to heal it, need to feel it. – Unknown

My emotional vacuum cleaner was turned on high, and there was no doubt I was feeling it. The day we left, as I unbolted the bedframe in Zoe’s room, I was overcome with crippling grief that cut right through my soul. Homes can be time capsules, I did not want to leave you however I knew wholeheartedly that for me to keep learning, living, and growing, I needed to make room for a new family to have you. Grief is an expression of love, that someone or something matters. Those 19 years, through the best and worst moments, you were there for me to Get Through Tuesday, Give Away the Hardest Thing, and when meeting Angela I learned that Two Minutes can make a difference. I want you to know unequivocally that as my home for all those years you do matter. And I know you will for the next people who benefit from your protection and care.

I want you to know how much I loved you, and thank you for loving all those close to me. You allowed me to be open and vulnerable, and experience more than the experiences themselves. I learned what it takes for moments to be impactful, namely you have to be present and show up. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of home and being my steadfast, reliable, and trusting friend that loved unconditionally.

I’m not sure if I will walk through your doors again, however as I know I tend to be sentimental, I plan to drive by and take a look at you to see how you are doing. You are in my heart and will always be a part of me, and please know I will keep growing just as I did with you.

“Trust whatever God has for you. It will be better than anything you can plan for yourself.” – Francis Chan

Let’s both keep in mind that it is alright to hang on and look back at our times together; I feel the same about my homes in Singapore and Toledo as well. I wanted to leave this with you, and for others that have gone (or will go) through the same. The story behind it suits us well, as the songwriter, Bear Rinehart, conveyed that it was tough to write; “I’m a pretty serious person and the song is very nostalgic. I feel like I live my life looking forward but the song is a bit more about looking back at some of the beautiful things that happened in life or first experiences. But it’s more than just nostalgia, it’s trying to remember the energy you had – the innocence and vulnerability that made those moments possible. I think it’s a real great reminder to us during these days of the world.”

I will always hang on to the times we had together, and grateful you were there through them all.





  1. Dear Eddie! You remain the wonderful and sentimental person you always were: how special to stumble upon this posting. Change is inevitable; I hope this is a good one for you. Sending you love and strength, from way back, Maria

    • Hi Maria, great to hear from you, and thank you! Change indeed is just that and we are looking forward to this change, it is a great one. Hope you and yours are doing well, and all the best. Eddie

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