As I type this, I am taking a shuttle bus from my hometown to the airport to fly back home. For months now, my siblings and I have been making trips to my parents’ home, going through closets and drawers, cleaning, sorting and taking family memorabilia back to our respective homes. These trips have been emotional and cathartic and this was the final weekend before the house escrow closes next week.

My sisters and I walked through the empty house for the last time this morning, seeing the bare rooms but also remembering 47 years; moving in as elementary school-aged kids, then as teens, college students home on break, young couples, then as parents ourselves with our children romping through the house. My kids are ages 27 down to 19 now…their childhood was in part also spent there on the many visits to that home to see their grandparents.

I took pictures on my phone this morning of different parts of the house but the real pictures are engraved in my mind. The front door… How many times did Mom open that door to me in the years after Dad had passed, always with a long hug and a heartfelt, “It’s so good to see you”.  My parents’ bedroom…on countless visits I would sit on the bed on “Dad’s side” beside Mom and we would watch old black and white movies together that she had taped off a classic movie channel, or maybe just sit and talk about nothing or everything.

The living room has a large picture window looking out onto the backyard.  Across the entire far wall is a brick hearth with a built in wooden bookcase on the right. I see in my mind my Dad in his favorite reclining chair with a book…always a book. As a girl I would kneel to the side of his chair while he helped with a math problem.  Mom’s recliner was on the right side of the room and she would help with the English and writing assignments.

In the last few years of my Dad’s life, sometimes I would sit on the living room floor by his chair and look together through his World War II photos and talk about his wartime experience. He was 21 years old when the War broke out and he came into the Army as a young enlisted Calvary soldier when his reserve unit activated.  As the unit moved from horses to vehicles, he went to officer candidate school then became part of the ground force on Okinawa in preparation for the Japanese invasion which of course never happened. My dad and his fellow soldiers were young, idealistic and probably the most fit they would ever be in their lives. The camaraderie that he felt with them was apparent even 60 plus years later as we sat and talked in that living room. I will always remember that time with him.

The family room memory is entwined with a small rectangular table with red stained legs…looking very “retro” these days… but was where we would come home from school every day and do homework. My sister took that table to her mother-in-law’s house; too many memories and algebra problems and reports written at that table to get rid of it.

The family room looks out onto the backyard which has always been a lovely living picture of lush green grass, flowering plants and the birdbath that has been in the garden ever since I can remember.  Though we kids were less than thrilled at weeding the backyard when it was a Saturday chore, Mom loved gardening.  She especially loved caring for the plants in the area around the birdbath and did so until her health declined.  Though the area is rather overgrown now, it still shows the loving touch that my mom gave it.  Secret Garden was a favorite childhood book growing up and years ago, one of my sisters put a little garden sign in among the flowering bushes that said “Mom’s Secret Garden”. That garden sign is back at my sister’s garden now to keep giving joy and flower-filled memories.

The family room is open to the dining room which is likewise open to the large kitchen.  The white counter tiled kitchen and dining room were the focal point of countless family gatherings, both growing up and visits back home with our own kids in tow.  Kids, excited chattering, talk and laughter during reunions, lots of food, lots of memories.

Yes, I took some last pictures of the empty house today. I’m glad I did and know that I will pull them out from time to time and look at them. The best pictures though are the ones that are printed onto my memories; I will have those forever.