In 2015 my late husband and I moved from San Francisco up to Santa Rosa. William was in treatment for cancer, and he decided that he wanted a quiet, tranquil place to heal. He was a San Francisco native and loved the city. The decision to leave was a difficult one for him, but he said he felt it was the right thing to do.
It was also a very difficult decision for me. I didn’t really want to leave the city. I’d moved to San Francisco from Southern California in 1994. As soon as I arrived I felt as if I’d landed right where I was supposed to be. I was home.
We moved to a 55+ “active adult community” called Oakmont. It was in a beautiful part of Santa Rosa, surrounded by vineyards, forests, mountains, cows, and horses. There were even two llamas in the area that we’d see each time we drove to the shopping center in town.
We bought a large house, over twice the size of our house in the Outer Sunset, and laughed because it was so big that in the beginning we kept getting lost. It was too big for just the two of us, but it was a pretty house and was much more affordable than a comparable home in the city. All of the furniture that we had was much too small for the large rooms – it was scaled for our smaller San Francisco home. It was fun to furnish and decorate our new house and I spent the first many months doing just that.
The house and the surroundings were beautiful, but it didn’t feel like home.
Oakmont is a very social community, and I’m not much of a social person. There are groups and clubs in the community for everything under the sun and then some – tennis, hiking, board games, arts and crafts, politics, water aerobics, music, play reading, and so many more that I was overwhelmed. I was pleasantly surprised to find wonderful yoga classes and a meditation group within the community, as well as a Buddhist study group. There was a memoir writing class that I attended for a while, and a new friend introduced me to a local writing coach who I still work with. I made a handful of close friends in these groups, and as the years went by and William’s health deteriorated these people became invaluable to me. They supported and cared for me during his illness and death, and for that I am eternally grateful. Some of them are still my close friends, and although we don’t see each other often I treasure them.
I always knew that I would move back to the city after William died. The usual advice is not to make any large life changes for at least a year after a spouse’s death, so I waited. I lived in that large house by myself, feeling a little lost. I slowly started making small changes so that the house would feel more like mine. I hung the artwork in the livingroom that I’d bought for my condo years ago, which had been stored away because William hadn’t cared for them. I got new bedding, including a beautiful feminine coverlet and shams. William’s study became my yoga and meditation room. I had some landscaping done in the backyard, filling the space with more color, variety, and greenery. I even bought a new car, trading in my now unnecessary four-door sedan for a coupe.
I joined a few more Oakmont groups, including a knitting group and an Enneagram study group. I became a bit more social, going to dance and music performances with my friends. I got together with people for dinner, going out or eating in at each other’s homes. I even started taking line dance classes (so much fun!). As I grieved the terrible loss I’d suffered, I also began to feel a level of contentment and the hope of building a new life for myself.
But I still did not feel at home.
In 2019, right before the pandemic hit, I met a man who lived in San Francisco. Our connection, although not immediate, became intense and deep, and our relationship moved forward quickly. At the end of 2020 I sold my house in Oakmont and moved back to the city to live with my new partner. I was elated to be back in San Francisco, and although parts of the transition were rocky, the adjustment was relatively easy.
I admit that there are things I miss about living in Oakmont. The natural beauty, having a backyard, and mostly the people who helped me through one of the darkest periods of my life. But I’m happy to be back where I belong in San Francisco.
I’m home.