The home should be the treasure chest of living. Le Corbusier
Leaving my childhood home today for the very last time, I have so many mixed emotions. I am grateful for the love that lived there. I am grateful for the childhood that began in that place after our move from Brooklyn, when I was in the first grade. That house that saw family celebrations, holidays, birthdays, anniversaries and more. That house that knew anger, sadness, loss and pain just as intimately. That house where I found friendship, first crushes, first romance and even first heartbreak. If those walls could speak, they would tell so much of my story.
And I am grateful for the reconciliation that it was witness to. After six years had passed, in the driveway of my childhood home, I shared a first emotional embrace with my father and my mother, and healing took hold. Yes, I am grateful for the joy and even the hardship that shaped me into who I am, so much of it in that place that I once called home.
But I am also grateful to let go of the place where my father ended his life, and the palpable pain & grief that brings each time I enter the space, where he drew his final breath. The house haunts me only with sorrow now, it is filled with what was and what should have been. I look for him in every corner, out on the porch basking in the sun, sitting in his recliner in the family room or his favorite spot in the living room. I can’t even bring myself to sit in his chairs. I hear his voice on the answering machine and he still sounds so very alive. He recites the phone number I’ve committed to memory and he says that “we” can’t get to the phone right now, but “we” will get back to you as soon as “we” can. But my mother is a widow now, and we will never hear his voice in life again.
So fare thee well house. I’ll hold the good you gave me close and in leaving you, I hope to leave behind some of the pain. Be good to the next family that calls you home. A new chapter begins for my mom and for us. Another door closes, and somewhere else a window opens…
Thank you for this post from the bottom of my heart. I got the post in my e-mail yesterday and could not bring myself to read it till today. We are in the process of looking for a new homes and trying to selling our Family home. The home my mom lived in for 60 years with my father and I 30 and that has been in the family for over 100 plus. The home that my mother and father should be trying to sell to downsize and move to their home to watch the sun set. My dad died 2 years ago at our home, why we were home and it is still raw and feels like it happened yesterday. I know what my mom feels when she returns home every day after work and I thank you for sharing your feelings and the TRUTH. Thank you – and as i say one day at a time and one foot in front of the other. xo xo
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Jess, the emotions have been so hard being in that house. I wanted so much to feel the presence of something more than pain, loss and death but it is a constant trigger in particular when I walk in the place where my father died alone, in the depths of darkness. I know that for some people, there is a comfort in remaining in the place they shared with a loved one lost. For my mom, it isn’t anymore. As she says, it is no longer a home, just a house and a daily reminder of what was and will never be again. I wish you continued strength and healing on this journey. You are so right, one day, sometimes one breath at a time and step by step we journey forward.
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