It was always in the plan that I should move to another part of the country when my husband died. He knew all about it and encouraged me to go for it. He had a terminal prognosis, two years if lucky, when he was diagnosed with cancer but survived for 13 years! A few months after his death, I sold the house, put all my belongings in storage, and moved. I will never forget that journey, awful weather and my husband's ashes in a small suitcase, strapped in by the seatbelt on the front seat next to me! It just felt like the right thing to do. It was a whole year later before his ashes were finally interred. Bereavement is a funny thing!