05 May PRESENT TURNING TO PAST
PRESENT TURNING TO PAST
November 2021. I write an email to my parent and their siblings: “I understand that you are having difficulties co-owning and that you want to sell. But I want to ask, does it really have to happen as soon as next summer? What about postponing the sale until after Grandma and Grandpa have passed away? I don’t understand the urgency behind this sudden deadline.”
June 2022. I call my grandparents to wish them a happy Midsummer. They are at the summer house, which they bought in 1961. Grandpa built and renovated it with his own hands. “How are you doind?” I ask. Grandpa brings it up: “Well, of course it’s sad. It’s a big part of our lives that’s being taken away from us.”
July 2022. Grandpa asks, “Why are you constantly taking all these photos?” I say I’ve always taken a lot of photos here, and now it’s the last time. I need to remember everything. “Well, okay then.”
Grandma is playing with the youngest. They might remember this place, or not. They might remember each other, or not.
August 2022. Grandpa is picking the last blackberries. He paints the back side of the house to make it look presentable for the new owners. He gives away tools he’s been using in his workshop for decades.
How many times have they walked in and out this door? Now, they lock it for the last time. Grandma’s painting is left on the green kitchen table. Grandpa has written a note: “We are going home now, in glorious weather. Sad but necessary.”