Thank goodness I had such a lovely night last night- it was a good lead in for what turned out to be a hard day today.
The decision was made a while back to put my Mom-Mom's house in Philadelphia up for sale, and despite the housing market it sold pretty quickly, to a family with children, which is nice. My Mom-Mom, grandfather Benjamin, my father and my uncle moved into that house when it was brand new after living above their bar on South Street- I think my dad was about 8 or so, which means that for the entire life of the house, until now, it was inhabited by Wexlers! I'm ashamed to admit I'm a little fuzzy on exactly how old my dad is, but I know for SURE he's in his 60's.
That's alot of time and alot of Wexler in that house.
My grandmother was the last one- my grandfather passed in the very early 70's, my father married and moved out, and my Uncle Gary passed away not long after Pete and I got engaged in 2007. Mom-Mom was always a very independent woman, but I think she loved having my uncle there with her, and she was a person who always had an open house.
Of course, the bulk of my memories of that house involve spending Saturday nights sleeping at Mom-Mom's, watching Golden Girls in her big big bed, with Mom-Mom always on the far right, Marla in the middle, and me banished to as far to the left as possible because I kicked in my sleep so badly! The next morning, I would walk to the Burger King right behind her house and bring back breakfast for everyone!
I thought I outgrew wanting to stay overnight at Mom-Mom's, and after about the age of 12, did it less and less and eventually not at all anymore. I thought I was growing up and had things to do.
Ugh, teenagers are so stupid. But, oh, if you knew Mom-Mom, you'd agree that it wasn't such a dumb assumption to think she's be in that house forever.
Of course, that's not the way the story worked out, and in a few days, it will be a new family occupying that house in Philadelphia. To get ready for them, we were at Mom-Mom's house, cleaning the last of her things out of the garage. Her house itself had already been cleared out (long story) and most of the evidence of her life there, aside from the whispers from the walls, has been stripped. There were a few treasures in the garage- some pieces of furniture, some fabulous items of clothing that still hold her smell, some letters and other random bits of her story.
I walked my son through the house, feeling him kick inside me as I went from room to room. I thought about all that I received from that house in my lifetime, and all of the things he will miss in it's absence from his life.
I can only hope that, thanks to all of the things I gained from my life in that house, I will be able to give this boy an amazing life, with a new tradition just for him.