To the place ​​I call home

This is the last night I get to call this sweet place home. Though, it will always be remembered as home.

We have been here 16 years and most of them have been nothing short of creating an amazing childhood. This is really an attribute of my parents, not the place. The place is what holds all of the memories, making it hard to let go of.

As I said in my last post, my parents recently finalized their divorce. They would have been married 29 years this summer. Heartbreaking, huh? I was telling my mom the other night how all of this is just that much harder because it feels like its being taken from me. Ripped right out from under me. Suddenly, and certainly not welcomed.

I told her I had always known the day would come when I would have to say goodbye to this 1-acre plot but I anticipated it being under different circumstances. Each of the kiddos leaving and they were ready for something smaller, you know retirement and all.

I never expected to be here 5 years ago.

Two years ago my brother passed away very suddenly. I have shared about this enough that it doesn’t always sting as bad as it once did, but right now, it sure does. Sometimes it feels like yesterday and I hope that it isn’t true. I hope the grief it’s produced is not going to hold a piece of my heart forever, but it does and it will.

I am sitting in my bed, in my brother’s old room as I write this post. It’s hard to imagine someone else creating new memories here. To imagine leaving this place behind with all the visual reminders of him. The memories we made here with him is one of the closest things we have to him now, at least it is to me.

This house holds many of the memories I have with my parents together and each of my other siblings. I know it’s morbid, but I can’t help but think if I lost another sibling and not having this house to reminisce in. Ughhh, I hate it. My heart breaks for those that relate to what I am feeling.

It’s the place I spoke my last words to Clifton. He asked me what he should wear on a trail ride with my mom that afternoon.

It’s the place where I sat in my parent’s office with Ian and knew he was the one. We were 17 and weren’t even dating yet.

It’s the place I brought my first horse, cat and dog home to.

It’s the place that has our six handprints in the concrete.

Its the place our little black kitty is buried under the pine tree in the front yard.

It’s the place Clifton’s memorial tree is planted right outside the front window.

It’s the place I developed into a young woman.

It’s the place I really began to learn who God is.

It’s the place I’ll always call home.