I posted the other day, as we put Mum and dad's house on the market that it was devastating and like my heart is being ripped out.
There is an saying "Home is where the heart is" and that is true.
At the end of this week is my birthday - mid forties. All of my life, infact for all of my dad's life (minus 6 weeks) home was Clifford Road. It's been in the family for nearly 82 years.
Be clear that I have lived elsewhere and I have been married for nearly 19 years and had another home - but HOME was Clifford Road.
I know that because when I need to call my husband at home, I still sometimes start to call my parent's house number.
When we stopped the line from incoming calls a few months ago, I cried. Other family members have different attachments and have different reactions. For me though that change was significant.
Grief gets you like that and everyone is different.
If I had the money I would buy the whole building back. (It's a traditional house that has been divided over the years.)
When I used to say I was a Rosie, someone would normally know where my grandfather lived and then they would laugh as I would say we are still there.
My grandfather, whom I never knew, sold his sweetie shop to buy the home for his growing family. He eventually had 6 kids and someone would normally know an aunt, uncle or someone in the family.
He then went on to do Penny insurance door to door, so the family name was known. When clearing the house recently we found some of his old receipt books....
How I have never seen them before I do not know.
In the second world war Grandpa apparently let out the house (the flat that was my home) to those escaping the London Blitz.
Later a dear old couple "The Mansons" rented it from Grandpa as their first home after they got married.
The Mansons were a godly couple, Joe laid they foundational stone of the church I go to and Betty bless her had an indirect connection to how I met my husband... both in glory now.
This is just a snippet of the stories I could tell. I may tell more yet.
When the house went on the market last week and I saw the picture online.... the reality of what I knew needed to happen, coming to life......
I yelped.
This resounding heartfelt "I can't breathe" yelp, then I cried.
I am and always will be a Rosie of Clifford Road.
Oh if that house could talk.
So I am grieving a home and the loss of both parents within 3 years.
As those who know losing your final parent is different. When dad died the Head teacher of the school at that time told me to be ready for feeling orphan like when mum goes.
I was polite at the time but I remember him saying you will feel like an orphan, you will think you are crazy but it happens to lots of people and they don't expect it.
When I told my cousin that, she said I wish someone had told me that when I lost mum, I thought I was going crazy.
The head teacher was right and I wish I could thank him for preparing me for that rather strange piece of advise, as it was invaluable.
So the grief continues...
Today my husband's aunt posted a blog by Mel Wiggins. https://www.melwiggins.com/
Well worth a read....
It shows that it is not just me and I am not a crazy emotional woman....
I am infact quite normal.
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