After both of my parents died several years ago, my brother and I decided to sell their home. As many of you have experienced, cleaning and selling your parents’ home can be a very stressful and emotional experience. I now think that emptying the contents of your family’s home should be on the top 10 life changing event list. My daughter and I vacillated between tears, hysterical laughter, and utter confusion as we as we discovered that every closet housed an indoor swap meet. There were items we could not even identify, which was just plain scary. I was so grateful for my young grandson’s enthusiasm as he discovered “treasures” to take home every Saturday.

It was their home for 53 years. Once it was sold, I walked from room to room, and all I could see were ghostlike outlines of pictures and nails which no longer served any purpose. Deep impressions were visible where heavy pieces of furniture once existed. This house was no longer warm and inviting. Without its beautiful contents, the house could no longer hide its flaws- the cracks in walls created by years of aftershocks, the tile without grout, the dark paths in the carpet from so many years of walkers and wheelchairs.

Soon a new family moved in, and they would never know of the many memories created in the house. The art studio where my father crafted countless oil paintings while loudly playing Broadway show tunes. My daughter sitting on the kitchen counter at two years old while my mother patiently taught her how to crack an egg without spilling it all over the white tile. The dishwasher that caused overwhelming panic when it suddenly overflowed while my parents were on vacation in Hawaii. Our dog, Duffy, jumping into the pool and trying to pull my father out of the water by grabbing whatever hair he had left. The new owners will never know that my bedroom door came off of its hinges on a regular basis because as a teenager I slammed it countless times. They will not know that both of my parents died in that house because we promised them that except for medical emergencies, they would never have to leave the home they loved so much. The new inhabitants would never know that after I handed them the keys and pulled out of the driveway for the last time, a tidal wave of grief was unleashed.

Sometimes I drive down the street where my parents lived. I know that the inside of the house has been completely updated and that some of the landscaping has changed, but this house and I will be bonded forever. As the years go by, it no longer represents a loss, but a visual testament to the past.

May their memory be a blessing.

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