The House That Built Us

I will start this post with an overly sad, sentimental song that has looped through my head for the last few months:

                                          

Any time I think about my parents moving away from the home they have lived in for the last 30 years, literally all of my entire life, I hear these lyrics.  This past weekend we travelled down to Long Island to my childhood, perhaps for the last time, to take some pictures there for my parents. 

Now, last week didn’t end as great as it started and so I was already pretty emotionally drained.  There are certain instances I try to mentally prepare for.  Well, let’s be honest: I’m a planner and so I literally try to plan for EVERYTHING.  It’s unrealistic and ultimately causes a whole lot more stress than it eases but I digress.  A coworker stopped by with her new baby, everyone (totally understandably) went nuts oohing and ahhing, and I lost it, which only made me feel like a bad person for not saying hi or acknowledging her new little muffin, but I just couldn’t hold myself together.  And so, making my way down to sleep at “my” house, maybe one last time, seemed all the more emotional. 

Truly, we had a great time there.  We stayed up late laughing with my parents and woke up early, laughing with each other.  We swam in the pool that was put in far too late for us older kids to fully take advantage of and enjoy but that our kids can’t get enough of.  We put the kiddos down for naps, fingers crossed that they would sleep long enough to ensure there were no meltdowns.  Turns out, there isn’t a nap long enough to make that a guarantee.

By the time everyone had his or her acts together, dressed, groomed, and otherwise presentable it was already exhausting.  We were down one brother and one brother-in-law; you’d have an easier time staging a coup in North Korea than you would trying to organize a time when 6 adult children and their spouses and children can come together at the exact same moment.  As best we could, we made it happen. 

When Sean, Kennedy and I sat down for our family shots my little bug refused to cooperate and sit where she was asked.  I was convinced we wouldn’t get one good picture of us.  Really, the truth is, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I will never have a complete family photo.  Not ever, and it was heartbreaking to think about.  The amazingly patient photographer snapped away, we bickered in between poses as only a family can do; there were tantrums and tears and an abundance of snacks meant to placate cranky toddlers. 

When it was all said and done we were drained- every single one of us.  I watched my parents pose together on the porch of a home they quite literally built to raise their six children in.  I watched my sister sit with her boys on the steps we took her wedding pictures on.  My brother sat with his wife and daughter on the porch he would storm off of angrily years ago and the one he returned to much more put together years later.  I saw boys that used sit and wait for the ice cream man to pass when they swore they may have hear his bell about 12 miles away.  Sean and I sat on the steps he used to pick me up for dates on the summers between semesters of college. 

A house can hold so much history, good and bad.  There is a lot in that house.  The house served it's purpose.  It provided as good a home most people can hope for in life.  Everyone is sad to let it go, no one more than my mom and dad.  A little surprisingly, I believe I am a close second.  This truly is the house that built me.  Maybe not so much the house itself but the life that began there, making me strong enough to be able to attempt to live the life that is now laid before me; a life missing a very big part from it.  

While his little face maybe never be in any our family pictures, Jack’s presence was definitely there that day.  When we got the pictures back, it was like magic.  The sun was incredible, everyone looked so happy, and it was like his big sister knew to leave a space for him; a space between Sean and me that will always be filled with an enormous amount of love and a little sadness mixed in there too.

Happy birthday to the love of my life.  Thank you for taking such good care of your girls.