turninglifespaiges

Today I remembered the last day I walked through my childhood home, the last home my parents lived in together.

I remember when my parents brought us to see our potential new home when my sister and I were 13 and 14. It was bigger than any house we’d lived in before: 2 stories, 5 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, with a loft upstairs for Savannah and I to share. It had a pool and a huge patio big enough to throw get togethers and looked out of a movie to us. We looked at each other and couldn’t believe this was going to be out new home.

It was a lot of money for my parents to afford. My dad has a wonderful career and could afford the place. I remember so many nights of us all laughing together, holiday meals and just lazy Sundays. I remember the hard conversations, the not so fun times, and the difficult lessons learned there.

The week after my father passed, I thought “There’s no way we can afford this place,” and knew we’d have to give it up eventually. The mortgage company took a while to reclaim the home, but my mom had to move out. She was not on the loan, but she couldn’t afford to buy it.

It was on the market for a while, and my mom forgot to pack the last couple of things in the house. The buyer mentioned that some of my dad’s things were there and our old neighbor offered to hold them for us. Since my mom lives out of state, I had to go by and pick them up.

As I was driving by, I saw the garage open. I saw they had completely redone the inside of the home. I asked the realtor in the garage if I could walk around since I used to live there and she welcomed me in. It was different; they had changed the flooring, the kitchen, painted the walls, but the biggest change I noticed was they installed a built in cabinet where my dad’s desk used to be.

I used to come around that corner and see him sitting there with my dog Arley under his feet every day. When he passed, I kept expecting him there in the back of my mind but of course he never was. It was hard for me not to look there every day, like I was looking for him.

I did my final pass and walked into my old bedroom. After tearing up, I put myself together, thanked the realtor and left the house.

Its really interesting how a place can take you back to who you were when you were there. It’s healing to know a family who is military with kids will now be living there, and I’m happy for them. Hopefully they will share the same happy memories I did.