We have been going down and helping my Dad sort out things left in Granny's house, clean up things and make lists of what needs done so he can get moved in there this spring. I waited almost four months before I went back to Granny's after she died.
My first trip back was not easy. My grandparents home was always just ..there. The light on between the rocking chair and Grandpa's recliner, Granny sewing, Grandpa watching the evening farm report. Saturday nights spent sleeping on a pallet of blankets in the living room or in the floor at the foot of my grandparents bed. Popcorn parties on cold nights. Sunday afternoon lunch followed by reading the Sunday paper and laughing at Grandpa arguing with the Sunday political shows. Christmas Eve's crammed in the house with wall to wall people and food. Lots of laughs and even more love.
My first trip back was just a few days before Valentine's Day. I don't know how I expected to feel but the cold of the house sorta matched the way I felt. Kaya asked why Nanny wasn't living there and after explaining she was in Heaven etc she was content. She would go room to room laughing or talking about things her and Nanny did. I walked room to room. No rocking chair rocking. No tv on. A lot of silence. No Granny saying "Shut the light off behind you. Did you shut the cabinet door?" Just...silence. I remember thinking "man I wish I'd get a sign that my grandparents are ok, happy and together..." and then I saw an old yellowed envelope sticking out from some books. Plain, nothing special looking. Probably everyone had walked over it and never even noticed it. But something made me pick it up.
Inside was an OLD cloth valentine card from my Grandpa to my Granny their first Valentines together..when Grandpa was in the service during the war. A simple sweet message..rare because Grandpa was not one to show emotions...stating how he was a soldier away from home hoping that the next Valentines Day he'd be home with his wife. The tears poured out. They had given me my sign that they were happy and together. Their hearts were healed.
A few more trips back to the house have made me think back to alot of child hood memories. From fishing in the pond, to horseback riding, to chasing fireflies in the hay field with my baby brother. Watching the fireworks from my grandparents propane tank( we could see the high up ones in Bedford all the way from downhome).
That's when I realized that the house is just a house. It holds memories and fun times but in my heart is where my grandparents are. I still find myself noticing things not how Granny would want them or snickering to myself how Granny would be pitching a fit to know we are upstairs in the attic lol but...I've found that my heart has begun to heal. Maybe it's watching Kaya laugh and have fun as she goes through the house..how easy she talks about her Nanny and the fun they had reminds me of when I was little. I've yet to go back to my Grandparent Robert's house since my Grandpa has died. Going back to homes that were like your second home isn't as easy as one would think. Maybe at times that old saying you can never go home again is true.....you can go back to a house but it changes.
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