It’s time to say goodbye to the house I grew up in
My dad called me this morning to tell me he had decided to sell the house I grew up in. Just a few months ago he told me he had turned down one of my sibling’s offer of having him move in with them (out of state) because “this is where my life is.”
My parents bought the house in 1961 (before I was born), so my dad has lived there 55 years, and it was the only home I knew growing up. He’s listing it next week, so it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever see it again.
I haven’t been there since my mom died in 2014, but it was always reassuring that the home base was still there. I realize that at age 88, my dad is too old to maintain the house and, honestly, it doesn’t bother me that much that I’ll never see the house where I grew up again, but it kind of bothers me that, once my dad moves out of state, there will be no reason for me to ever visit my hometown again.
All of the friends I grew up with have moved and my dad will be gone, so the only reason to go would be to visit my mom’s grave, and I doubt I would make the trip just to go to a cemetery.
I realize most Americans move 11 times in their lifetime (I’m on No. 99) and that staying in the same house for 55 years is extraordinary — but it’s still a little weird thinking I’ll never see that house again.
- Bill Doyle