Last Look

My six year old came home from Hebrew school tonight crying hysterically. I looked at him and asked what was wrong. He said, I miss our old house and I want to go there now! He stretched his hand out toward the direction of the house and continued to cry.

I picked him up and carried him inside letting him cry in my arms. I think today was the first day he has been driven by the house to go on to our new place. I think reality just hit him very hard. My daughter, who mimics her brother, said sadly that she wanted to go say goodbye to the house too.

Honestly, I just wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. Finally I said to them, I will take you back to the old house to say goodbye - but I don’t want to take you if it will make you more upset. They said it would make them feel better. I put my trust in them to tell me the truth.

We walked down the familiar sidewalk and I let us in. I still can’t figure out how to work the locks and keys in my new house. It was all the more frustrating as I swiftly unlocked the old house without incident.

The kids walked in and looked around. Then they ran around. We went into every empty room. They went into their bedroom and kissed the walls. My daughter went into the bathroom and kissed the tub. I tried very hard not to cry. They were not sad; they were just taking it all in. They were finding tiny bits of toys left behind and putting them into their pockets. Any piece of paper or scrap of something on the floor they grabbed. As if they wanted to take every last bit they could out of the house.

After about ten minutes I told them it was time to go home. It sounded odd to say this being in our house – but well, this isn’t our home anymore. As we walked back I let the tears slide down my face. The children were smiling. They left the house last Wednesday for school and never went back. I think seeing the house empty was probably good for them – to see that nothing important was left behind and everything we need is right here with us.

At dinner I reminded them this – that all our things are with us and that all we left behind are the walls and the floor. My six year old agreed that everything we need is with us – there were no more tears.

I on the other hand am now very upset. Upset that they have to deal with so much so soon. They are so little and all I want to do is protect them. It seems impossible at times. No, it seems impossible all of the time.

My father-in-law is coming up in a few weeks. I am thinking about trying to get my husband’s unveiling done while he is up north. I asked my mother to make calls. I just can’t. I keep asking my family what to put on the tombstone – it is an impossible task. I get it now, why so many graves say beloved this and beloved that. No words are enough to express how I feel. No words feel right and nothing is coming to me – no lyrics no poetry – nothing. Here I am the writer and I can’t think of a freaking thing to write on his tombstone. I guess everyone gets to this point and then they just write beloved.

I have no idea how much headstones cost. But if they charge by the letter I am simply going to put – Mr. G.