The End of An Era

I've been avoiding thinking about something that's made me very uncomfortable. But, I've learned avoiding things is a surefire way for them to manifest in unhealthy ways when you least expect it. So, I guess I need to get this out. Hopefully by doing so I can release a little of the tension I feel, as I navigate through this strange new world of grieving and how I should actually handle it.

My home for basically my entire life. My home that my grandfather had built in the 1960s, that my mother grew up in, she even pushed the detonator to start the construction for the in-ground gunite swimming pool when she was a child. My home that was centered around basically every memory since I was born - was sold last Friday. To some weird, strange, new people. Those people are going to be living in MY house now. I'll never be there again. They will never know the history, the memories that were made there. The struggles, the fights, the holidays, the happy times. The horrible times. The last tie to my dad, to my "old life" - gone. I'm here in a strange, uncomfortable new life trying to deal with all these realizations.

I always knew I could go home. No matter what, my home and my dad would always be there to welcome me from ANY situation I would come across. No questions asked. Now, they are both gone, and any sense of security I once had seems to be gone with them. Two staples in my life, taken away. I'm not taking it well, apparently. Talking about it sends me into a panic. Even writing about it is making me very uneasy.  And yet, I realize that I should consider myself lucky that I had this security, this sanctuary for so much of my life.Some people have never experienced that. Some people never had a dad that would do anything for you and drop everything to make sure you were OK. Or a home that has always been in the same place - comfortable, familiar, welcoming, soothing. But losing both of them around the same time is not easy to sort through.

Yes, I did have the opportunity to buy the house - but truthfully, I did not want to live there. I just liked the idea of it always being there. It had also been giving me bad vibes for the past few years, which is a whole different story. But, living there was not the option for me. Renting it would be too annoying in the long run. It only made sense to sell it. I didn't even want to go visit the house the past few months, as the last time we were there it was making some strange noises and generally being creepy. I had my last real walk-through of the house the day of my dad's funeral. With my sister, her kids, my brother, and my cousin Jack. We were all very nostalgic, and it is a nice final memory to have, all of us together, walking through such an important piece of our lives. Remembering parties by the pool, how we all loved climbing on the giant rock in the backyard as kids, how every important photo was taken in front of the fire place. It's hard to know you can never go back to that again. That life is permanently changed. That all you have left now is your memories, and photographs. But, how lucky I am that I have those memories and photographs to remember all the good times?  Very lucky. And getting over this, and dealing with the emotions it stirs up is just another step on my journey to working through this grieving process.