Houses and Homes

Yesterday was the last day in the house I love surrounded by the people who share the love. We all came together to relive and remember the indelible people who made it so special.

Mom J to me, and Grammy J to the boys, will be laid to rest today, sprinkled somewhere over the ocean. Dad's been gone almost 20 years, patiently waiting on the mantle for today. Well, maybe not patiently...

I first stepped inside in 1975 as part of the clean up crew. As part of the family. The place was a train wreck: after inconsiderate tenants and smoke damage. The folks had to renovate before moving and one of my most celebrated tasks was scrubbing the fireplace with Coca Cola and taking bets on the color of the brick.

It is harder to imagine a softer landing spot in life. It welcomed all of our gains and losses, and even when we never made it very far out of the gate. The door swung wide for new grandbabies, and shut soundly for the deer coming down the hillside trying to have their way in the garden. Dad was always puttering around fixing and building and destroying, tool belt strapped under his belly and carrying a ladder. Mom was always putting out the welcome mat with food and beach towels and in the midst of a crossword.

As we stepped inside on Saturday, I wondered if it would feel the same.  But my sibs were there with a warm embrace, and after hugs all around there was a full table of food for distraction.  And as the house filled up with noisy multi-generational conversations, I could almost hear the house give an audible sign of relief: Goooood.

For a thousand years it has been like this. Everything is in its place. It will all be divvied up soon and sold, donated or tossed. But today I took it all in and felt it way down in my heart. This has always felt like my only real home.

The air was thick and about to burst with memories, and once the storytelling began everything tumbled out: amazingly funny and bittersweet stories, and good natured tattles. Time melted away.  Everyone joyfully returned on this stormy January day for themselves as much as the folks. We half expected Mom and Dad to round the corner laughing with delight.

I listened to the love people had for this family. All the good times spent here in a place that time forgot. But more than that, it was because there was never a time the door swung open that someone inside did not open their arms. No matter how rough it was outside, you could count on that. Here, you were safe.

Thanks, Mom and Dad J.  Rest in Peace.