It goes on...

(L)September 2012 and (R)September 2014

Sometimes, you can't go home again...

I went to see my parent's house for the first time since we sold it in January. I knew it was going to be demolished because the man who bought it planned to build two new houses on the property. I was prepared for some emotional response. It was also going to be a reality check...there would never be another time I could look at this place and see it as 'home'.

The house was razed to it's foundation. I walked up to the steps...broken...rails removed...still marking the place where the front door once stood at 13 South Grove Avenue. Initially, I just looked around quietly and nodded. I acknowledged the presence of  heavy machinery and dumpsters where I once played with my dogs, friends, and had picnics and pig roasts with family. I saw piles of dirt and debris where I had lain in the grass gazing at the stars, talking to the full moon, listening to the sounds of my suburban neighborhood and dreaming of what my life would be like when I 'grew up'.

I looked down into what was once the semi-finished basement, and thought of how small it looked. I remember 48 years of accumulated 'stuff' in that basement that once overwhelmed me, thinking how I was going to dispose of it all. I stared at the blue paint on the wall and the original brickwork laid by my maternal grandfather who came here from Calabria, Italy. In 1923, he built that house and raised 5 daughters and 2 sons. I saved a small piece of the original brick as a true touchstone; a piece of the authentic history of the home that both my mother and I were raised in.

I felt incredibly sad to see the loss of the trees. My maternal grandfather planted many trees and so did my Dad. I think it was then that I realized my face was wet and I had really started crying. My special maple was gone, as were the willow, pear, cherry, peach, crab apple and mulberry trees. The fig plants, grape vines, tiger lily's, white hydrangeas, blue hydrangeas, pink and red roses were all torn up. It was the loss of all those plants and trees that had been part of the yard and garden that squeezed my heart. This wasn't my home, anymore... Without Mom and Dad, it would never be the home I knew. Time marches on...and that's the way it should be.

While Sean and I just stayed at the front, he noticed something in the rubble of the front wall. He picked up a broken rosary from under the debris and handed it to me. My mom collected rosaries anywhere she went. My parents had them all over the house I know they gave my Mom comfort. I took this gift as a sign from Mom and Dad that they are okay...and they wanted me to know that it was alright to move on. 

You can't go home again because 'Home is where the heart is'. Mom and Dad are always in my heart, so they will always be with me, no matter where I am. I miss them every day but we can't go back. They wouldn't want me to be stuck. It's just time to keep moving forward and live a life filled with as much happiness as I can handle. The next part of my journey is just beginning....