I had the rug-pulled out and the wind taken out of my sails recently, thanks to my first cousins. It’s a very long, complicated story, but they sold my Grandparent’s home without letting me know. They were rightfully the owners because their father, my Uncle, was the last owner of the home as Grandma passed away in 2009. But in my brain, in my heart, it was always our Grandparent’s home. Always.
Crazy enough, Linds was the one to break the news to me as she is close to, and works with my oldest cousin’s daughter. (the daughter, who I adore, was appalled at her father not contacting me as well)
For them, (my first cousins) this was about money. For me, it was all emotion.
Suz and G’ma, Suz, Gma, Linds and Lolo
My childhood wasn’t stellar, but when I look back, the time I spent at my Grandparent’s home was always joyous. I had meals prepared for me, was doted upon, and was loved unconditionally. It was my safe haven.
Grandma’s house is the one place that I visited/stayed at that had no bad memories or reminders of shit-gone-bad.
Grandma’s house is near the Miami airport in a lovely little neighborhood; My Uncles’ Widow, Joanie was living there, which was how it was supposed to be. They’d only been married for five years and she was sweet; she would have loved for me to visit again, but I just didn’t. I kept in touch with her by phone and snail mail. (unlike my cousins) I sent her flowers on her birthday and little gifts at Christmas; she knew that I cared about her. She was a bonafide wackadoodle, albeit harmless, but my Uncle loved her, so I checked in on her.
Grandmas house stood still in time, aside from the updated Kitchen Coach gifted to her around 2001. My grandma’s tchotchkes were still displayed in the same spots. The little terrarium I made for her in elementary school was still sitting in the niche behind the refrigerator wall.
I know. Things are just things. But still sometimes you want to put your hands on sentimental things.
Recently, Joanie had a myriad of physical and mental health issues and went into assisted living. I would have loved to visit the house again and perhaps keep a few of my Grandmother’s things that were forever residing in that 1942 house.
The news hit me harder than I’d expected; I think because it was sudden and of course because my feelings were not accounted for. The Coach assured me that they’re only concerned with money, which I know. Linds was so sweet and offered to go with me to the house and see if anything was still there. (Turns out Joanies nephew was purchasing the house)
The morning I found out, I spouted some cuss words and shed a few hundred tears, but within a few hours, I was ok with it all and had moved onto other matters. I think that’s called personal growth, right?
Anyhoo, I just needed to document this here for later when my cousins ask me for something.
I’m kidding but wouldn’t it be fun if they needed something from me later on?
Thanks for listening. XOXO