Last night, I stopped at my grandparent's house and took a look around for the last time. When dad called me a few weeks ago and told me that the house has a buyer, I wasn't sure that I wanted to do so. The last time I was in the house was in August when all my grandparent's belongings were auctioned - - on that day, as I watched the furniture being carried out and saw the house emptied, it really hit me that I was seeing an era come to an end. The home has always been in my dad's family, and has been my grandparent's home since before I was born.
When my grandmother died in October 2008, I knew that this day would come at some point. It’s funny how there are certain things in your life that you think will always be there – then one day, they’re not. I never imagined a time when I couldn’t just walk right up to the door of that house and not walk right in.
Now it will belong to someone else who never knew my family gathered around the massive dining room table (that had so many leaves that it practically spread into next week.) The folks buying the house never knew a time when apple trees stood in the side yard (or knew that my brother and cousins and I would use the fallen apples as projectiles in a sometimes-painful game of apple tag.) They never saw my family all gathered on the front lawn and on the porch to watch the annual parade in August (and catch the massive amounts of candy.) They never knew us watching movies shown with an old-style movie projector, playing Dominoes at the table, or running through the dining room and making the dishes shake in the china cabinet.
During the last few years of her life when my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s had gotten bad, I didn’t think much about these things. I realized, of course, that things would change, but it was something that was going to happen LATER. When Grandma could no longer take care of herself and had to move to a nursing facility, her home kind of went into a state of suspended animation. When it unfroze and everything was piled onto rack wagons and carried out for auction, the finality of it became truly apparent. Perhaps it is just always difficult when another connection to your childhood is severed. I have no desire to return to my youth, yet that doesn't stop me from waxing nostalgic for those times every now and again. As I took that final look around last night, I realized that ready or not, LATER had arrived.
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6 comments:
I know how you feel. I wonder sometimes if Tedd and Joanne Pollard would mind if I knocked on their door and asked for a look around-just for ol' times sake.
Aw, that made me sad. :( But I completely understand. I still remember exactly what my Grandpa's house looked like and am still sad that those days are over.
The nicest thing about our youth is the ability to be once again transported there by such a simple things as the whiff of fresh baked bread or a few notes from an old song. Sharing those precious memories with the ones we love helps keep them alive. The nay-sayers were wrong, you CAN go home anytime you want, you just can't stay.
The house we bought this summer is a family house...150 years of tradition. My heart hurts for them the same ways it hurts when I read your post. I hope they find some comfort knowing the hope and joy we will share raising our own family there.
I know this is cliche, but the more things change, the more they stay the same. That new family won't know all those things, but your family will, and nonw they all gather around your table at your precious house you are making a home for your girls, and life goes on.....and your grandparents are watching it happen and are proud of you Becky. :)
I'm very sorry to see the house in Mt. Auburn go out of the family—especially since the farm house is gone.
Those are the places where I grew up, and I guess I thought that I could always go home to Mt. Auburn. But now "home" will be gone. I can visit your dad, and am always happy to see Kenny and Helen, but it's not the same thing as going "home."
But I'm glad that the house is going to a family with children, who will have their own memories of growing up there, and I'm glad that they plan to add an upstairs bathroom—something we always wanted and needed. I hope that they will let me see the house after they are finished with remodeling it.
Unca Bunca
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