I’ve had a lot of loss in my life, as I am sure most people do.
Maybe less than some, or more than others, I don’t know.
That’s how I have been feeling with moving like a nomad from
tent to tent.
The house I grew up in ended up sinking when an uncapped water
main,due to a strike, washed away the foundation.From what my parents
and I had experienced, I always said it took 10 years off all our lives.
So I had to move.
I moved on my own for four years, since I never had the dorm experience
my brothers had.My parents were dismayed, but I told them,er, promised
them when one of them got sick, I’d move back to take care of them.
My father got sick.
Dad passed away and I lived there taking care of Mom until I got
married in 2002.
I married Jim and we moved into a three-story Victorian house on the
edge of Fairmount Park.We were surrounded by trees on our walkway,
and Jim planted his trees over the years.
The house was sold a month ago.
Jim told me yesterday that they took a good deal of the trees in
the front of the house away.It was like someone stuck a knife in my heart,
because it will always be MY/OUR house, I know, I know-new folks
tweak the house the way they like it. It still hurts.
In the meantime, we are camping out in my parents deteriorating house,
which is owned by me and my 2 brothers.So we are living in one floor.
It’s the house that I saw both my parents pass away in.
Loss, again…..**sigh**
Sometimes I really hate my life.I just wish there’d be a gain in it
once in a while.
