These past few weeks have been full of ups and downs.  For those that don’t know, I have been care taking my Grandmother’s house for the past couple of years.  What originally was suppose to be a temporary move somehow morphed into years.  Two weeks ago the family decided it was time to sell the house.

My Grandmother fell and broke her hip and it was hoped she would heal quickly and come home.  Unfortunately, she’s never been able to come back to the home she loves.  As my stay at the house was always suppose to be temporary, I never fully moved in.  Most of the house was kept exactly how my Grandmother left it – pictures on the wall, curtains on the windows and towels in the bathroom.  Not that I didn’t walk around the house and dream of things I’d love to change: rip down wallpaper, new kitchen floor – even as big as tearing down walls.  I didn’t do any of those things.  It was never my house and never would be.  It’s a strange experience to live in a house that for all extents and purposes you are really a guest in.

We called a real estate agent and before I knew it the process was full steam ahead!  The real estate agent asked me to pack away all of Gram’s personal photos and nicknacks.  Suddenly it struck me – this was real – this was a goodbye.  My Grandmother had lived across the street from my parents for almost 30 years.  A piece of my childhood was fading away.  I knew before I took another step forward, I needed to photograph the things that were the essence of my Grandmother and her home.

I photographed her dressing table, full of family photos and the mirror and hairbrush she has had my entire life.  I walked around and captured small vignettes – my father’s teddy bear from when he was a child, her thimble and tea cup collection, her sewing machine where she made us Easter dresses and Halloween costumes and the carved table my Great Grandfather brought back from his travels.  It was an exercise in remembering and saying goodbye.

So I’ve spent the last two weeks packing and getting the house ready for show.  Frankly, it’s heartbreaking and a relief as well.  I’m ready to move on, to no longer be responsible for another’s worldly possessions.  I will, however, be sad when I look out my parents window to the house across the street that is no longer “ours”.  I know a few more tears will be shed over the next few weeks, as were done while writing this post.  As much as it pulls on my heartstrings to see this chapter close, I know it is the right thing.  I am also excited for what comes next.  I have no idea what that is but I’m ready to meet it!