Jackie McGregor: Memories and​ emotional goodbyes leaving my family home in my 50s

Since then, much has changed. We’ve lost Queen Elizabeth II, endured Covid and witnessed the rise of Artificial Intelligence. The world has altered unimaginably, and so has mine!

I have recently experienced one of the top three of life’s biggest stressors, namely, moving home. According to a survey by Legal & General, 57 per cent of respondents reported moving house even more stressful than having children or going through divorce. Packing up your entire, world and finding somewhere else to move it to, is intensely emotional and extremely hard work!

My move was due to circumstances rather than desire. I hadn’t lived anywhere else. As I had been a full-time carer to my mother from an early age, it meant that in my 50s, I had never left home. I had even written a book about the house entitled, ‘The House That Built Me’. It had been the one constant in my life. I had not expected the hunt for a new home to be so difficult. Nor was I prepared for my overly friendly estate agent to turn into a nasty bully, when I couldn’t find anywhere suitable, and I lost my first buyer. Suddenly, everything felt out of control and frightening.

Eventually, I found a nice place. Then the job of packing up a lifetime of my parents’ and my own belongings ensued. Each item held a memory, yet there was a strange liberation in packing them up for the auction.

The most stressful part of the buying/selling experience was the wait in the property chain, anything could go wrong. It was nail-biting, but we made it through!

I spent my last week in the house like a lover saying a long goodbye. I walked from room to room remembering a lifetime.

Everything that had ever happened to me had happened within these walls. The essence of my late parents lived here, I felt like I was deserting them. The feeling of grief was overwhelming.

The night before I left, I carried out a little goodbye ritual to the house that built me. My father’s favourite song had been, ‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree’, so I tied little, yellow, ribbons deep within the hedges in the garden, in tribute to dad.

When moving day arrived, it was chaotic, yet exciting. I was off to new beginnings for the first time in my life. I thanked the old house for everything and turned to go. It was the end of an era.

Tears trickled down my cheeks as I closed the door behind me for the last time, and I found myself singing the words to the haunting, old, Beatles’ song, ‘She’s leaving home …bye bye!’​​