Tired

My mom sold her house in late May.

*sniffle*

I'm hesitant to write about it because I still don't know how I feel about it. The shock is starting to wear off a bit, but since I am not home these days, it still hasn't really sunk in.

I feel like an era has ended. It's one of the last things of my dad's that remains. By 'last things' I mean things that my father built from the ground up the old fashioned way - through hard work and savings.

We sold our family business a few years after he passed away. That was tough to accept since it was all we ever knew growing up. Over the years I wondered what had happened to it, but I could never find the courage to go see for myself. I suppose the pain of that time still ran too deep, and so I stuck with wondering because then at least my imagination could take over when the pain of reality was too much to bear.

Then, a few years ago my boyfriend at the time insisted on seeing it. Bless his heart, he was a wonderful guy! :-) I wasn't sure what to expect. Looking back now I can see that I was still guarded emotionally. I can see myself as an observer of the changes, but not really connecting with it at the time. I do remember thinking how shocked I was to know that such a tiny little store was enough to provide for our entire family of 5 kids and 2 adults, and then some. I ran into familiar faces, faces of regular customers who were still living in the neighborhood, and I heard of others who have since left and moved on. The surrounding area changed a great deal, with many new establishments moving in. I have a love-hate thing with progress and development. *sigh*

Years have passed since then and I went about living my life. A weird thing happens when you're not around things you lose on a daily basis. One day it's there, the next day it's not. And there's still nothing concrete to support that fact. If I was visiting my mom on a regular basis, then I'd at least see the changes happening over time, where letting go would be as easy as taking your next breath. Instead, it's just gone. *poof*. And my mind and soul have to acknowledge it.

My mom finally selling the house came as a surprise. She had been toying with the idea for months, but I didn't take her seriously since she has a tendency to hem and haw and then never actually following through. But one day she called me up and told me the news and I just had to sit down. My rational mind knew it was the right thing to do. She was rarely there and the upkeep was a lot for one person to handle. But my emotional side just wasn't prepared to let go.

This is the house I grew up in. The house I knew for most of my life. The house whose closet door I played tic-tac-toe on using red nailpolish. The house whose bathroom had a blue permanent marker streak on the wall when my sister went running out of there when she saw a bug. The house whose hallway we'd play wheelbarrow in. The house whose kitchen floor we'd slide across on with our socks on. The house whose living room had the piano that we all played and sang along with. I could go on.

I'm just sad. I don't want to grow up. I don't want to let go. I don't want to move on.

What is it with me and loss these days? Everything and anything that I've ever let go of, or have mourned in some way is coming back to me right now. Why? I'm just one big tear generator right now and I'm tired. My spirit is tired and weary. It aches and feels heavy.

*sigh*

- RM