Last week my sisters and I spent the week going through what was left in my parent's house and preparing it to be sold. As we dug through the memories and loads of junk that they kept around we shared in laughter and in tears. It was difficult but I also think that it was the closure that I needed.
"Dads are the most ordinary men turned by love into heroes, adventures story-tellers, and singers of song." - Pam Brown
I never got to see my father's body and because he was cremated there was no funeral. Going through what was left of his belongings and watching other people buy his things was therapy in a way. The best part of my sisters and I doing the estate sale ourselves was that I got to tell the stories associated with the pieces of furniture that he made. It was also wonderful that people purchased his pieces because of the craftsmanship and beauty and not to flip. Or at least that is what they told me.
We each kept several pieces. My storage unit has almost a complete living room set of furniture that my dad made. I can't wait to have a space to show it off. I took photos of the furniture that was purchased that had memories so that I could look back on them and reflect. He just made more pieces than we could all fit into our homes.
We moved into that house in 1995. It was the first home that my parent's owned together. (Back story: my parents were married in August 1978, lived in and rented my grandparent's house, had me in November 1980. My grandparents decided to sell their house in 1995 and did not give my parents much time to find a new house. We did look at several options, but they settled on this house because it was on the side of the highway that I would go to Grapevine High, and it had a workshop outback which my dad would use until it literally started falling apart. Well, he still used it after it was falling apart too.) The house was where we would all, kids (us), grandkids and great grandkids, come together for holidays and family gatherings. My dad even built a permanent watermelon table in the backyard. He did use it when he was working on projects also, but it was built as a watermelon table so that we could all gather around and eat our watermelon.
I drew these pictures in 1999. Clearly, I missed the peak above the garage, but I am fairly certain that I drew that one from memory. The one below is of a '55 pickup that sat in our backyard for many years. I was sad when my dad sold it because I had dreams of fixing it up and driving it. The tree in the middle of the backyard was planted after I drew the picture.
Every corner of that house holds memories of times long gone. I even moved back in at one point with my children. My third son learned to walk in that house. Fortunately, my sisters and I got to go through the photographs and belongings that tell the stories of my parent's lives. The last day of the estate sale was particularly hard for all of us. It was difficult to not just take all that didn't sell but we all agreed that we just can't keep moving clutter.
This is my name written in the street concrete with '98 under it. I had forgotten about it and noticed it while talking to my oldest son outside my parent's house.
The past four months have been difficult. Losing my dad was not something that I ever really thought would happen. After all, he was my superhero. He would live forever. It has been a blessing to have my sisters by my side through it all. I will miss home. I will miss my dad. I am eternally grateful for the memories and photographs that I have. I will forever cherish and pass down the furniture, tools and other artifacts that I got from the house.
My sisters and I posed with the backyard tree. It used to have a face that my dad made out of wood pieces. We also posed in front of the bookshelves that my dad made and put into the house. The last picture is my youngest son and me walking out of my dad's workshop/shed.
Now to focus on making Mom's years left on this earth as cheerful as can be. That does include Arby's Beef N Cheddars and Girl Scout Cookies! She has dementia and because of this we have decided not to tell her about the house or my dad. It is difficult when she is asking for my dad, but I would hate for her heart to break over and over again when she remembers or is reminded.
One take away from all of this is to get rid of your "stuff" before your children have to go through it all. It was fun reliving the good times but exhausting and overwhelming.