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Finalizing the sale of the house
Nov. 5th, 2005 02:14 pmSo the date is set for the closing: Thursday at 11 a.m., and of course I'm delighted as this is ending a give-or-take 6 month oddessy in which we tried to sell this old bucket. Just a couple of months ago, when we were living hand to mouth, worried about the future, the debts that my parents left us, our own lives, I would have given anything to unload this place. But leaving comes with a rather bittersweet sadness alongside the elation.
This was supposed to be the house my mom grew old in; it was a given, at least in our minds, that my father, who was so sick towards the end of his life, even before my mom passed on, would die before her and that she would be able to live a more relaxed life. She had such a difficult time looking after her aunt in our old house, she was soured to it and we moved here, the great new hope. I remember how comfortable I had been, making the space my own, how everything had looked up. But dad was ill, in mind and body, and my mom was sicker than we could have ever imagined and he just wore her down. About a month before she passed away, she actually said to him "You're killing me, you know that? You're going to kill me." When she was gone, he just gave up; I don't know whether he truly blamed us for it, as he told all of his friends, or if it was a defense mechanism on his behalf to negate any responsibility on his behalf, but his last months with us were not happy ones.
This house has felt more like a cage in the past few months, a place I couldn't wait to escape from. It wasn't our intention to sell it at first; my mom always wanted this to be my house and I did too. But the memories soured and as grieving, which I still feel so deeply in my heart, started to balance with truth, I realized, not just for financial reasons, we had to leave.
Things are looking up again and a new start is right on the horizon. I'm not bitter; I feel nothing but hope, like watching the sun rise. I'll miss the good times but it's time I put the bad ones behind.
Peace, Ghani
This was supposed to be the house my mom grew old in; it was a given, at least in our minds, that my father, who was so sick towards the end of his life, even before my mom passed on, would die before her and that she would be able to live a more relaxed life. She had such a difficult time looking after her aunt in our old house, she was soured to it and we moved here, the great new hope. I remember how comfortable I had been, making the space my own, how everything had looked up. But dad was ill, in mind and body, and my mom was sicker than we could have ever imagined and he just wore her down. About a month before she passed away, she actually said to him "You're killing me, you know that? You're going to kill me." When she was gone, he just gave up; I don't know whether he truly blamed us for it, as he told all of his friends, or if it was a defense mechanism on his behalf to negate any responsibility on his behalf, but his last months with us were not happy ones.
This house has felt more like a cage in the past few months, a place I couldn't wait to escape from. It wasn't our intention to sell it at first; my mom always wanted this to be my house and I did too. But the memories soured and as grieving, which I still feel so deeply in my heart, started to balance with truth, I realized, not just for financial reasons, we had to leave.
Things are looking up again and a new start is right on the horizon. I'm not bitter; I feel nothing but hope, like watching the sun rise. I'll miss the good times but it's time I put the bad ones behind.
Peace, Ghani
