Today was a day at Grandma's House, one of the last in a series of cleaning, emptying, rearranging and reimaginings.
Each time we come, we know we're moving along the timeline toward the end zone for this wonderful home on the hill. March has always been a particularly busy month here. The month of March is populated with birthdays, and April is now too.
Every time I set foot on that front porch, even now with all the snow and ice, I see hanging ferns, white wicker, a family filling it with laughter and silliness, hors d'oeuvres and drinks. I see little kids rolling down the sloping hillside just to the right of the house. Teenagers plot and plan on the tall steps, watching the little ones for us. I remember the stories, the political debates, but mostly, I remember Grandma, and Grandpa too, listening to us all and taking it all in.
Today, we spent a lot of time in the attic and the basement, combing through the remnants of what's left to give away or toss. And today, I spent a lot of time, in my mind re-envisioning what it will be like for another family...maybe one with lots of kids, to live and laugh inside its walls.
After everybody else left, I sat in front for a few minutes and really choked back the tears. I've spent what feels like a lifetime coming to this house...first at the age of nineteen, the girlfriend, then later, the married woman hauling the grandkids...and even later, coming back just for the sake of enjoying conversation and a sandwich on a Sunday when nobody else was around.
Now, we're in the final phase. And I would like to think that all this work, all the lugging and un-combing and emptying is in some way a tribute to Grandma and Grandpa, taking care of a lifetime of things...that don't represent them, but give us a chance to consider every little thing and think about each other and what means most to all.
4 comments:
Gratefully, memories never have to be sold or left behind for another family. My mom talked about selling the house I grew up in for a couple years and it was all I could do not to have a lump in my throat just thinking about it not being there for my family any longer. Last year she changed her mind, but I know it will happen some day. That is such a gorgeous house that I'm sure it will create amazing memories for another family also...but that doesn't make it any easier to say goodbye.
I remember going through my grandmother's house and helping my mom pack up a lifetime of living material. Things that bring memories, things you thought were long gone, things you've never laid eyes on, everything. Ssurridge said it well...thank goodness memories never have to be sold. Memories are what make the rest of it easier.
Thank you, both! Those memories will always be in my heart...and in the hearts of all my brother-in-laws and sister-in-laws too. But best of all, all of our kids, the grandchildren. They've been so fortunate to grow up with grandparents like these two have been to them. I never had that myself.
Whenever I think about these things (a lot more in the past few years), I feel heartache of the inevitability of our mortality. I think of what this house will be like once we're not here, too. It's such an odd, uncomfortable feeling.
Thank you for sharing this, Gael :)w
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