Cut down

There, it’s done. Yesterday, I went for the very last time to my grandparents’ house. To see it one last time, before the new owners start breaking down the walls. To see if I wanted any furniture or other stuff. I do, I want all of it…I just haven’t got one square meter of free space to put anything.

I feel like I have to say goodbye to a very large piece of my life. My roots are being cut away, and there’s nothing else replacing it. No new branches or no new leaves full of hope and future. I look back: there’s nothing left but memories. I look at the here and now: one of my parents very ill, and me – not getting anywhere with my life. I look at the future: no clues, no certainties, only unfulfilled dreams. This little twig on the family tree is not growing, although, God knows, I’ve been trying for years.

Anyway, the house where my grandfather and my mother were born, and where three generations lived and loved, is gone. More than a century of my family; a place where I always felt very safe and protected, and where I was always loved. The people are gone, the place is gone.

People who have never known such a home fail to understand how I feel. They say “it’s just a house, you still have the memories”. Like calling a picture of a loved one “just a piece of paper”. I gave up trying to explain. Sometimes feelings cannot be put into words, sometimes feelings can’t just be understood by others. So sometimes it’s just you, and a box of Kleenex.