Last month, I wrote about the process of helping my grandfather prepare to move from his home in Colorado to an apartment in Nebraska. At the time, we were just starting to sort through a lifetime of stuff, and I was learning, rather painfully, that stuff is never just stuff.
A fruit bowl isn't just a fruit bowl when it reminds you of brunch with Grandma. A mixer isn't just a mixer when someone has used it for years and is comfortable with all its' quirks. Random things tucked into drawers and cabinets can hold entire stories, even when nobody left knows exactly what those stories were.
I ended that post by admitting I wasn't ready for this particular chapter to end. Unfortunately, my readiness didn't have a damn thing to do with it.
We are now much further into the process. This past weekend, we were all together as a family and spent most of yesterday at Grandpa's house getting serious about what stays, what goes, and what needs to happen to get the house ready to sell. We were only missing our little cousin, True.
Sidenote: Seriously, if you or anyone you know is even remotely considering purchasing a home in Greeley, you HAVE to see this one! It's a beautiful home in an awesome neighborhood...and don't come at me about this shameless plug because I can be an emotionally devastated granddaughter and still be a REALTOR.
Anyway...it was a hard day. The crazy thing is it was hard in a completely different way than I anticipated. There was something incredibly bittersweet about all of us being there together, going through things, telling stories, and making decisions about a house that has been part of our family for 17 years (and stuff that's been a part of it for hundreds).
Somewhere amidst all the chaos, I realized something. Grandpa seemed...relieved.
He's a stressor - I've said that before. We are the same that way, he and I. He's been stressed about this move for months, which made perfect sense to me because I've been stressed about this move for months. I assumed we were stressed about the same things. Yesterday, I learned that was not the case.
The rest of us were walking through the house seeing memories everywhere. I could look at a room and immediately picture Grandma sitting there, putting on her lipstick. I could remember holidays, meals, conversations, and completely ordinary days I would give ANYTHING to have back. I was still doing exactly what I wrote about last month - clinging to the memories attached to all the stuff.
Grandpa has those memories, too. He's just been living amongst them every day since he lost his beautiful bride.
At some point, I asked him how he was feeling about leaving the house after 17 years. His answer was not what I expected.
"This would be a lot harder if Grandma was still here. It was our home. She's been gone for a while now and it's time for me to leave this house and go make my own home somewhere else."
Woof!
Apparently, while I've been worried about Grandpa having to leave his home, I missed an incredibly important reality. He's already mourned it. Not the house...their home.
I think the rest of us have been so busy thinking about everything he's giving up we haven't given enough thought to what he is ready to gain.
My grandparents' homes have always been some of my favorite places in the world. The places where I felt the safest, most comfortable, and loved beyond measure. As a kid, there was nowhere I'd rather be. Even as an adult, there has always been something special about walking into their house and knowing I was home, too.
So yes, selfishly, this is hard. REALLY hard.
I'm not ready to lose my grandparents' house in Greeley. I'm not ready for Grandpa to be farther away. I'm not ready for someone else's furniture to sit where theirs sat or for another family to make memories in rooms already overflowing with ours.
But...maybe I'm finally realizing I don't have to be ready...as long as Grandpa is ready.
Yesterday he made me understand something I hadn't really considered before. The rest of us still walk into that house and see Grandpa and Grandma's home because our memories fill in the missing pieces. For him, one very important piece has been missing for a long time. Grandma.
He said it so simply: when she was there, it was their home. Now, after living there without her, he is ready to leave the house and make a home somewhere else.
I cannot tell you how much hearing that helped me.
It helped because moving him into independent living had started to feel like something we were doing to him, even though he's made every decision. Downsizing. Packing. Selling this house. Moving him farther away from the place he's lived and the neighbors he's loved for 17 years. There is a heaviness to all those words when you're talking about someone you deeply love.
I now know, that's not how he sees it. He isn't being pushed out of his home. He's choosing his next one. As for me, I really love that for him!
For 17 years, I've been incredibly lucky to have Grandpa (and Grandma) close to me, while other members of our family have had to love him from further away. Now the geography is changing. He will be closer to some of them and farther from me. I don't particularly care for this arrangement and would much prefer to move him closer to me, but I suppose it is their turn.
We will visit...often. He will come visit us. We will have phone dates. Life will rearrange itself, as it always does. Most importantly, he will get to create a home that is completely his...with his stuff, his decisions, his routines, and maybe all five egg-cracking bowls if he somehow managed to sneak them past my mother.
Last month, I learned a fruit bowl isn't just a fruit bowl.
Yesterday, Grandpa taught me the other side of that lesson. He taught me that sometimes, eventually, a home really does become just a house again.
The memories don't disappear when the FOR SALE sign goes up. They aren't packed into the moving truck or handed over with the keys. Grandma won't somehow be more gone when another family lives there.
My grandparents made that house their home because they were there together. Grandpa has now mourned that loss, revisited the memories, and is ready to make another place his home.
I'm still not ready to say goodbye to the old one, and I expect I'll cry like an idiot when we close the door for the last time. I am COMPLETELY fine admitting that.
However, I don't need Grandpa to stay in one chapter of his life because I'm having trouble turning the page. I would much rather watch my favorite guy make himself at home in the next one. ❤️
