A flurry of COVID cleaning unearthed  this essay.  So old the paper it was written on is yellow and brittle. I remember executing this document shortly after my arrival in Seattle in 1995. Evokes memories. Decided to clean it up a bit and post. Hopefully changed names enough to protect family’s privacy, with out taking away from the content .

November 1995.

This is to say goodbye to the place that was my home for almost seventeen years. Events took place for me, major life events within those walls and in that yard. I need to acknowledge that history.

My first husband and I moved into this house when our oldest son was just two years old. We lost a dear pet cat, a Burmese named Trouble not long after moving there. His partner, a silver point Siamese named Charlie lasted for many years.

Our yard was very full of memories and the soil within the walls contained the bodies of family pets-cats, rabbits, even the afterbirth from my second son, birthed at this home, is buried under the grapefruit tree.

Son number two, came into the world on the floor of our master bathroom. My midwife had indulged my request for “one last pee” and events took a rapid turn.  She had to drag me off the commode, and I didn’t make it back to the carefully prepared “birth bed”  arranged in the corner of my bedroom. My husband and oldest son, aged four, perched on his wooden stool,  wedged themselves in the doorway and watched over my shoulder as the midwife knelt on the bathroom rug and caught our baby.

A switch in partners happened. Husband number two was open to midwife attended birth, just not at our home. This being his first experience, I agreed to a quick trip to the hospital, and shortly after our son arrived, we returned home.

All three of the boys have grown; they’ve spent a good portion of their lives in this house.

Major events, resulting in changes that impacted my life occurred within those walls.

I found out that my beautiful baby boy was blind. I’d experienced a perfect pregnancy, a beautiful birth, all planned out with the expectation that this would guarantee great results.

I learned to except that I couldn’t control much at all.

My role, I learned, is to witness his journey through life, maybe open a few doors for him. He continues to grow into a wonderful person, fills our lives with much joy and music.

Even though he stayed behind in Phoenix with his dad for a while, I know he is still with me and will always be a part of me, no matter what physical distance separates us.

I learned I couldn’t control my first spouse’s drinking or make him the good husband or father that I wanted him to be. He had to experience major tragedy and loss to set him on his path to sobriety. I had to live through the shock of a man’s death, taking my babies out in the middle of the night to get their father out of jail, and cope with my husband being in jail. I realized what the marriage was lacking when his physical absence made it obvious to me that he hadn’t been there for a very long time anyway.

My family members’ experiences occurred in part at that house. My mom, brother and sister, all lived within the walls, at different times.

My Mom, moved in. Prompted by her grief, the loss of her father, and the push pull of the life with her last husband, she needed a safe spot to process the emotional upheaval and doubts on this final relationship.

My sister and her then boyfriend, stayed a bit, on their way to what they thought was a commitment. Cash saved up, they moved into their future and moved out to begin a life in their new condo.

My brother, a teenager being shuffled about as Mom and newest hubby were sorting out their relationship, crashed in our spare bedroom.  He came back again from an overseas missionary stint, for another short stay.

A friend, recently divorced, and her small son too shelter in a spare bedroom and became part of our lives, as they coped with the changes in theirs.

Lots of shocks and painful events: I discovered that my oldest son had been molested, by trusted family members next door. He in turn acted out more of the same toward his own brothers as well as our friends’ children.

Wondering about trusted neighbors, I felt betrayed and angry, I’d somehow exposed my children to harm. I again found that control was elusive and slipped through my fingers.

Lots of loves; and making love, in those rooms, on the soft grass in our backyard, some so brief, others forged a path, affected change and awareness that are with me still. Opportunities to see what I was- what I am, and where I want to go with this life. Buckets of tears of joy and sorrow were soaked up by the carpets in those rooms and the upholstery on the furnishings.

Celebrations; birth, marriage, love, and anniversaries, our house became the family reception hall for several weddings including my second.

Friends gathered, for fun, celebrate events, and to make plans. La Leche League existed and grew for many years within its walls. Babies and moms, meetings, groups planned for a meeting, and discussions after those meetings. Friends showed up-to grow with, grieve with, and rejoice with as well.

Growth happened from the vegetables and roses to babies that grew too big to fit through the doors without stooping. Trees grew from twigs to Jungle Jim’s, to climb into, and fall for him as well.

Husband number two became a homeowner and caretaker there. He made over the yard, the garden, improved the house to make it his home. He grew into a husband and a father there too. He gained a wife and children and lost a father during his stay there.

Businesses were planted, hatched, grown, and nurtured into existence. Struggled with, and lost sleep over too. Hamburger empires were designed and planned hopefully to still continue. People filled our home and were e a part of my life; their relationships went way beyond the job they were there to do at the time.

I felt so rushed to leave- our move out delayed due to moving company snafu, frantic packing and fleeing for our lives.

I never stopped to say a proper goodbye. To remember all these events and acknowledge this part of my life that has passed on and into a whole new phase.

Leaving behind, letting go, and moving forward. Hoping the seeds planted and nourished in that home , transplanted to the Pacific Northwest, will carry us and continue to grow in whatever direction we have chosen for this life and the lessons we still need to experience.

Kathy Gail Passage– Looking for the humor in life situations

follow my blog kathygaillaughingatlife.com

 

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