Daughter Robin bought our old house when we decided to move. It certainly made things easier…I didn’t have to tidy it up constantly for prospective buyers, and I left packed up boxes everywhere. Then one day in September the movers arrived. I couldn’t handle saying goodbye to the house, so I offered to go up to the new place and wait for them there. I still feel those sentimental tears surface when I think of that moment.
I left a lot of memories at that house…some happy, some sad. We had 30 years there, 10 of them with grandchildren visiting us each summer. Such good times we had!
Getting settled in our brand new condo was an adventure. For a while I felt like I was playing house…but gradually I claimed ownership of it. Then Harry’s cancer took over our lives and I seldom gave a thought to the old place.
But one summer, after Harry died, Robin asked me to check the old house as she was away and it was without renters.
When I opened the door I realized the house mirrored my life…empty but full of memories. I gazed out the windows…the view as familiar as my families’ faces…but I never shed a tear…at least not until I got outside to the back garden.
The yard I looked upon broke my heart. The renters had obviously not been gardeners and it hadn’t been well looked after. So, I spent the next two days raking, pulling weeds and tidying it up.
And then when I was done I said a final “goodbye” to it and drove away.
I sort of feel that my old house reflects my beginning widowhood…filled with memories that are bittersweet and full of empty spaces.
So like the old house, I tidy up my days, wipe up the tears, say goodbye to some of its memories and carry on.
I will always love the old house and will always love Harry, but my new way of life will have to take precedence and with God’s help I’ll have a few more years to do His will.
