We moved into our family home 25 years ago when I was six years old. My dad planned, designed, and built it from the ground up all while working a full-time job, caring for a seriously ill wife, raising two young kids, and maintaining a hobby farm.
It’s this place where my dad first modeled the idea that with enough ambition, drive, and self-determination any dream can become a reality. He worked so hard to build a home for his family and, in doing so, he instilled in me a sense of pride in a place that cannot be measured.
My heart is broken for him and for all that this house embodied for him.
This house was the setting of my origin story and the backdrop to so many core memories. But those memories are all I have now. The sense of loss is enormous. An unquantifiable emotional value. A lifetime of my parents’ mementos. Family heirlooms. The albums are gone. Countless photos and home videos, the last pieces of my mom left are only in my mind now. Quilts stitched by my grandmother. My childhood bedroom. The front porch. The back deck. A sense of security.
The past several days have been some of the most difficult in my life. I have overcome, by most standards, greater insurmountable pain before and I know I can do it again but right now I just want to cry and that’s okay. Losing your family home should be grieved all the same.
I am incredibly thankful my dad and stepmom came out of this unhurt (except for a few hairs on my dad’s head). Things can be replaced, people cannot. And I am thankful for their outlook on the future. Of course, the shock comes in waves and will for quite some time I’m sure. But my dad is modeling a new type of drive — we carry on because we have to. If not, then what would the alternative be?
I’m sure in the coming weeks after I’ve had more time to process I will write something more eloquent and reflective as my family starts a new chapter. But for right now I want to grieve what is lost and cry because it feels good to do so. I feel so much pain for my dad for all he has lost.
As I think about the future from here, I’m reminded of a quote from one of my mom’s journals that’s been a guiding light for me over the years:
“With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams — it is still a beautiful world. Strive to be happy.”
And strive I shall.
-gs