Saying Good-bye

A client - now a friend - e-mailed me that she would forever miss her lakefront home.

I was reminded of my mother, who left her home in 2002 because she was unable to stay there any longer for health reasons. I remember seeing her look up at it as we stood on the sidewalk, and I can only imagine what she was thinking and feeling.

She had come to that home as a 26 year old bride. The house must have seemed huge to her - 3 bedrooms on Thornden Park in Syracuse by the university. I'm sure she took the hardwoods for granted, but not the fireplace and the French doors. Over the next 56 years she enjoyed the screened in front porch and the back yard, especially the back yard bordering the park.

A series of dogs and cats lived in the house; the dogs were always walked at least twice a day in the park, rain, shine or snow. Cherry trees and apple trees blossomed by the peonies and the daisies she tended. Birds and squirrels fed from her feeders. Lilac trees in May blooming in the park gave her two weeks of incredible joy.

The house she loved in the end turned on her: one bathroom upstairs was not conducive to arthritic knees. The basement laundry became too much. When changes were suggested she refused them, saying it wasn't right to hurt the house because of her needs.

She looked at that house the last day and then turned away, never to even drive down the street again during the last four years of her life. She missed it, I know, as she missed her sister and her mother. It was as tangible as a person, as well-loved. She didn't denigrate her new situation - one-floor living, 13 acres of "park-like setting." The dog still got walked, she used a park bench to rest, new birds were well-fed. But I know she missed that house forever.