125 N. Tracy

I would say I handle hard situations fairly well.

But then I would be lying.

I am probably the worst bad situation handler in the land.  Okay, maybe not in the "land", but around here.  I am for sure the worst situation handler in my family.  There are many reasons for this, but I blame genetics, defective tear ducts, and an inability to cope with sadness.

My Grandpa moved out of his house this weekend.  The house he has lived in since 1954(I think...).  The house where we went as kids and spent many weekends watching Hee Haw and listening to KFDI.  We played for hours on end outside in the yard and drank as much Shasta as we wanted.  Grandma pretended to monitor our intake, but we all knew we could have as many as we wanted.  We played anything from football to house with all of my cousins.  We sat at the same table eating our meals, and sat on the same furniture in the living room that was still there a month ago.  I am quite certain NOTHING has changed.  Okay...maybe their bedspread a couple of times.  But other than that...not much.

My Grandma passed away when I was 19.  I was in my first year of college and I'll never forget Christmas break that year.  She went into the hospital at Christmas, and died just a few weeks later.  She had emphysema.  She was a smoker.  I found one of her cigarette cases today going through old stuff.  It was turquoise blue and even had a fancy little pocket for the lighter.  Aside from being a smoker, she was a spit fire.  She was little bitty and you didn't dare sass her.  Neither did Grandpa.  She always had hard candy at her house and loved to sit on the porch swing to wave at passer byers.  (my own word)

I have many memories of her and I miss her like crazy.  I know my Dad misses her too.  She was wonderful and we all loved her very much.  Her life was cut short and it (for lack of a better word) stinks.  The house was big and too much for Grandpa to take care of anymore.  It needed a severe cleaning and a family to live there that would give it TLC.

Going down today almost did me in.  I have been avoiding trips to this house since I was nineteen.  I have made them...but reluctantly to say the least.  I love my Grandpa, but seeing the house always made me miss her more.  Sometimes more than I could even handle.  Today, I had to face the house one last time.  I picked up a few things of Grandma's that I knew I couldn't live without.  An old scarf and a cream and sugar holder.  As insignificant as they might be to anyone else, I just needed something I could walk away with and know it was hers.  I also brought home some old baseball bats from my Dad.  The boys loved them as soon as they laid eyes on them.

I know this will surprise you, but I cried driving down.  I cried going into the house, through the house, leaving the house, and driving back home.  I cried when I saw the pictures my sweet cousin put on Facebook, and I can still feel the tears stinging at my eyes.  The house is no longer part of my life.  It will eventually belong to someone else.  But the memories will always be there.  And the porch swing will be at my cousin's house not far from its' original home.

Letting go can be so difficult.  Knowing I'll be with her again someday gives me peace, but for now, I have her hot pink scarf.  I can drive by whenever I need a quick peak at the old house and know she is smiling down on all of us.

So long 125 N. Tracy...so long.

Have a blessed day!
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