Selling the family “farm”…
We recently put our house back on the market. And when I say “we” I mean my sister and me. Although I’m considerably more emotionally bound to the house than she is, having lived there for the last 7 years, we have owned it jointly since our dad passed away two years ago.
I spent most of last summer focused on moving. A year after Dad died, we found unexpectedly that we would be able to keep the house instead of losing it to the state. Since Missouri has estate recovery laws that exempt homes of those on Medicaid only until their deaths. But they didn’t make a claim by the one year and one day time limit. So I started thinking about moving and decided it was time to live closer to B. What followed was an intense round of apartment hunting, garage sales, packing and simplifying my 3-bedroom-basement-and-garage life into a two bedroom apartment. This was ultimately accomplished with some overflow going B.’s basement.
I’ve said a lot of goodbyes to this house already: when I moved out at 18, when I moved to Illinois for grad school. Then when I lived there again, I said goodbye when I changed my parents’ arrangements. I said goodbye when I sold stuff that had been there forever. And as I took pictures of the house, first with my furniture, then empty, then with our realtor’s staging. When the moving van pulled away with my stuff, and again when I was scrubbing it clean. I said goodbye when I went out to check on it week after week as it stood unsold and vacant. It sort of lost its intensity.
The house went back on the market Tuesday and we’ve already had two offers. To my surprise, I’m feeling stuff again. I thought I was prepared to part with the family home? Not so much, I guess. Don’t get me wrong; I’m ready. After all, I want to get my teeth fixed and take a nice vacation with some of that money. But you can’t always ward off feelings, I guess. I mean, it’s OUR house. My mom’s house. My dad’s house… No one else ever lived there except us. Sorry to get mushy on ya, but hope someone loves it…
April 4, 2008 at 12:58 am
I know how you feel. I was the only one in my family who seemed to care that my parents sold the childhood home. I went by a couple of years later, and the owners had holes in the screen porch, and the lawn was weedy and long. I wanted to cry. My dad kept the lawn perfectly trimmed and edged. The paint was always maintained perfectly, as were the bushes and flowers. I’m glad that I couldn’t see the inside. I’ve never been back–but probably will in August.
It’s normal to grieve that loss–it’s more than just the house, it’s part of your childhood memories. Remember that you will still have the memories, but don’t give yourself too hard of a time about being sad. Your lead photo was great.