Letting Go of a Life, Part 2

From a meadow...

From a meadow...

Sitting in the dark at my mother’s house after the Irish wake, all was quiet. 

I stood to look out across the snowcovered back lawn and the deck she built herself (at the age of 74), and the tears came again as I told myself that its best to sell her house.

To a tiny living space...

To a tiny living space...


She put everything into this place, this living space.  She and Dad built it themselves, a little at a time, from a tiny living space behind a huge garage to the eventual large home with its 10ft floor to ceiling rock fireplace and walk-in closet in the masterbedroom.  She had to complete the finishing touches herself.  Oh, yes!  That sense of independence and determination are what helped her survive my father’s death.  This house IS her life.

~ by chezchristineo on March 17, 2009.

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