Gone, Missing
Memories For Sale
Some familiar household decorations, picture frames, handcrafted pieces of religious art, along with various tchotchkes on the built-in shelves in the living room were arranged by price values of $5 and below. It made me recall the twinge of sadness and regret I felt when my grandma handed me a picture frame to put a 25 cent sticker on for her garage sale many years before. I don't know if she realized that her wedding invitation was what was in the frame.
Hanging on a rack
in the sunroom were some of my youngest sister Theresa’s many costumes from
quite a few dance performances over the years.
Wow! I’ve been to so many of her
recitals, dress rehearsals, Musical Revues, and performances. I
miss seeing her dance now that she’s all the way up at The Ohio University. Truth be told, I miss seeing her period.
“The Bon-Ton Incident”
There was a rack of shoes and a smattering of
handbags set out for $3. I smiled
briefly remembering a particular incident that occurred while I was wearing one
small brown backpack I used for a number of years as a purse. While weighted down with quite a few things in
the mini backpack, I’d spun around quickly to tell Kevin I was going to the
restroom and accidentally hit my then boyfriend/now husband where it
counts.
I turned around to see him doubled over on a chair in the furniture section of the Bon-Ton department store and genuinely had no clue that I had unwittingly caused a full-on frontal attack on the family jewels. I asked him what his problem was. When he was able to speak again, he told me what happened and eventually was able to laugh about it. He still, some ten or so years later refers to that unfortunate event as “The Bon-Ton Incident” and cringes whenever he’s spotted that backpack or someone’s made mention of that story.
It hit me hard
this weekend (pun-intended) that we’ve already celebrated our last Thanksgiving
and Christmas together in the one house still in the family where we have
holiday memories that include my dad (who was only in his 50s when he passed away in 2009) and my grandmother, who, praise God, was eventually kicked out of
hospice and is still living. I cried
quite a bit on Saturday, some of it at Little Sisters of the Poor, where my
grandmother now lives.
We’ve spent our
last Thanksgiving and Christmas in the one place where all of us were always
welcome, felt at home, and had some special memories. I feel rather lost, as if I don’t have a home
base anymore. For a number of years, my
home base was my grandmother’s house, because we’d travel there every summer
regardless of what state we lived in that year.
When my grandmother moved down here, my uncle and his wife bought it
from her. They sold that house when they
had to move to Boston, so it’s no longer in the family, either.
I’ve drifted apart from my biological family in many ways, but this weekend brought that fact front and center. It seems right now that many aspects of our lives are up in the air, and Kevin and I aren’t quite sure what we’re to do next in many areas, but we’re clear we want most to live out God’s will for us. Fortunately, through the grace of God and some serious prayer cover, we can both agree on this most essential thing.
To say this past
weekend was a rough one would be a gross understatement, though, it still
didn’t register on the hands-down-worst-ever Richter scale for our family
crises, and for that, I really am eternally grateful. On Friday, I went over to my mom’s house
while Vivi was napping (since her mom is working from home), and felt really
sad, surprised, and disappointed at what I found.
I entered the
living room and the couch was gone. It
wasn’t one that had been in the family for ages, but it had been a main
gathering place at my mom’s aside from the dining room table which I looked up
and noticed was also missing. No one had
mentioned to me that the furniture my mom doesn’t intend
to keep had already been put on Craigslist, and much of it had already been purchased and
picked up before Saturday's scheduled estate sale.
Memories For Sale
Some familiar household decorations, picture frames, handcrafted pieces of religious art, along with various tchotchkes on the built-in shelves in the living room were arranged by price values of $5 and below. It made me recall the twinge of sadness and regret I felt when my grandma handed me a picture frame to put a 25 cent sticker on for her garage sale many years before. I don't know if she realized that her wedding invitation was what was in the frame.
There was one section of
paperback and hardcover books, a table of clothes for a boy baby/toddler, a
table of children’s picture books which my parents had read to us when we were
little. (My mom had taken out the ones
that were our favorites and saved them.
I would have been really devastated if she’d given away one of the few
nostalgic, still comforting pieces of my childhood that remains.) I already have a small collection of books
from our youth at our place, because I bring them with me when I nanny or work
at school and share them with the kids in my life.
The Show Must Go On
Hanging on a rack
in the sunroom were some of my youngest sister Theresa’s many costumes from
quite a few dance performances over the years.
Wow! I’ve been to so many of her
recitals, dress rehearsals, Musical Revues, and performances. I
miss seeing her dance now that she’s all the way up at The Ohio University. Truth be told, I miss seeing her period. “The Bon-Ton Incident”
There was a rack of shoes and a smattering of
handbags set out for $3. I smiled
briefly remembering a particular incident that occurred while I was wearing one
small brown backpack I used for a number of years as a purse. While weighted down with quite a few things in
the mini backpack, I’d spun around quickly to tell Kevin I was going to the
restroom and accidentally hit my then boyfriend/now husband where it
counts. I turned around to see him doubled over on a chair in the furniture section of the Bon-Ton department store and genuinely had no clue that I had unwittingly caused a full-on frontal attack on the family jewels. I asked him what his problem was. When he was able to speak again, he told me what happened and eventually was able to laugh about it. He still, some ten or so years later refers to that unfortunate event as “The Bon-Ton Incident” and cringes whenever he’s spotted that backpack or someone’s made mention of that story.
Hard-hitting Reality Bites
It hit me hard
this weekend (pun-intended) that we’ve already celebrated our last Thanksgiving
and Christmas together in the one house still in the family where we have
holiday memories that include my dad (who was only in his 50s when he passed away in 2009) and my grandmother, who, praise God, was eventually kicked out of
hospice and is still living. I cried
quite a bit on Saturday, some of it at Little Sisters of the Poor, where my
grandmother now lives.
I returned to the
Chapel after Mass to pray for a while after taking Grandma down to her room and
visiting briefly. A tremendous grief and
sense of loss came over me. Once our
brother John had finished his hour of prayer before the Blessed Sacrament and
left, I had the chapel all to myself. I
burst into tears and sobbed for most of the next hour. I realize that much of this sense of loss is
coming from the many moves we made over the years, the major changes I despised
because they were forced upon me, and the sadness that my mom will no longer
have a place that’s big enough for my sisters, our spouses, our friends, and
loved ones to gather together for a big party or a holiday meal.
No More Holidays Inn
We’ve spent our
last Thanksgiving and Christmas in the one place where all of us were always
welcome, felt at home, and had some special memories. I feel rather lost, as if I don’t have a home
base anymore. For a number of years, my
home base was my grandmother’s house, because we’d travel there every summer
regardless of what state we lived in that year.
When my grandmother moved down here, my uncle and his wife bought it
from her. They sold that house when they
had to move to Boston, so it’s no longer in the family, either. I’ve drifted apart from my biological family in many ways, but this weekend brought that fact front and center. It seems right now that many aspects of our lives are up in the air, and Kevin and I aren’t quite sure what we’re to do next in many areas, but we’re clear we want most to live out God’s will for us. Fortunately, through the grace of God and some serious prayer cover, we can both agree on this most essential thing.
Our Eternal Sanctuary
Lord, thank You
for a faith in You that has grown and expanded, and a husband who sees and
appreciates the value of putting our lives in Your Hands. Please help us keep focused on You, and
remember that our goal is to help each other grow in holiness and get to Heaven,
our one true, never-changing, always filled with love home. Amen.
