My aunt, uncle, and I are in the process of selling the house we all grew up in. To say it’s been rough is an understatement.
It kills me to think about it being gone, out of the family.
But I can’t bear to keep it. And nobody in the family has stepped up to say they want to buy it.
Thus, we’re in “paperwork hell.”
If you’ve ever sold a house before, you know what I mean. It’s really not that bad. Just lots of documents to read & sign…
And that’s where this story begins. It’s mostly good. But sad.
I’m the point person for this transaction, in that we’re using my friend as our real estate agent. He’s really good, and has been in the business for a long time. He’s bought and sold many houses over the years.
But because I’m “on point,” I get the docs sent to me and then I take them out to my aunt, who’s in a rest home, and to my uncle. They’re out in Antioch and Oakley, respectively.
I usually go out there by myself. I enjoy the company 🙂
Plus, it’s a time for me to reflect, to really get in tune with my feelings.
The last two times, however, I’ve taken either my whole family or a large portion of it. And this is what’s hitting me in the gut…
Oh, and to back up a little: My wife and I are contemplating–strongly–moving to another area.
When I see on my aunt’s and uncle’s faces the sheer joy my kids bring to them, it at first makes me happy, then it makes me sad, knowing that we won’t have the number of opportunities to see them in the future.
Yesterday, the entire family went out to Oakley for more document signings. It was a mini-family reunion of sorts. One of my cousins was visiting from Oregon with her daughter and granddaughter, who turned 6 months old.
It was her “Half-year Birthday Party.”
Being around all the family, like in the old days when my grandparents were the organizers of such events brought me joy. And sadness.
Because they’re all gone now. Just my aunt and uncle are left. And I want to be around to help and share in their final years.
But I have to sell the house. When I stop by, I get kicked in the gut. It hurts to be there. My memories, all good, are in my head and heart. They’re not in that house.
I feel like it’s a weight on my soul. And I can’t bear it.
Probably why I want to move away, too. So I never have to revisit. Turn the page, close the book, sell it to somebody who really could use it.
I have pictured myself living in the house again. It makes me uneasy. Unhappy. I don’t think that would be fair to my family.
So I need to sell it. Move away. Kind of start over.
I can only hope that we’ll visit the family as often as we can.
Either way, a part of me is gone.