Today I write to you from the recliner in the front room of my girlfriend’s family home. It is the same recliner that her dad sat in nearly every time I ever saw him, grunting at me in a manner that suggested I remained in good standing with him. And when we’d bring our sweet dog Luci with us to visit, she’d climb up in his lap, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she weighs 65 pounds, and sit on top of him while he watched football games or whatever else was on. They both loved it.
My girlfriend’s dad died a few years back, and now it’s mostly me who sits in this recliner when we visit. But this week marks our last visit as both of my girlfriend’s parents are now gone and the house has been sold. We’re here to help clear out some last items before the new owners take over at the end of the week. I’m trying to focus on all the nice memories I have of spending time here, perhaps most notably the first year of the pandemic, which my girlfriend and I spent here taking care of her mom while also avoiding humans in general away from our home in New York City. It was the three of us and Luci, the dream team for me as they are three of my favorite living things ever to grace this planet. And though it was a stressful time, it was great to be together, stuffing our faces with food, watching The Lawrence Welk Show every Saturday night, and staring out at Lake Erie, a literal stone’s throw away, five hundred times a day.
I’m focusing on these memories, but there’s a sadness being here this week too as we realize it’s the end of an era. And there’s nowhere to come home to anymore other than our own home in New York City. But I also realize the love that made this place special stays with us and we’ll take it with us wherever you go and eventually accumulate so much stuff that someday others will have to show up once we’re gone and try to figure out what to do with everything- the furniture, the old shoes, even the occasional majestic belt buckle.
As we spend time here this week, I’m also thinking of my own childhood home, which I had a hard time letting go of, so much in fact that I continued to stay there long after my dad had moved out and there wasn’t much left in the house other than an air mattress, a chair or two, and the refrigerator I had come to use solely for the beer I’d drink all alone while staring out at the driveway late at night. It was on one of those nights that I remembered a story I’d heard about a dog who had moved to a new home with his family but returned to the old home one day after he’d gotten lost. Once I realized how much I had in common with that damn dog, I never went back.
I suppose the thing I try hardest to avoid thinking about too much in all of this is my own mortality and how someday I’m going to be leaving the physical realm, ideally to play assorted pranks on all those I’ve left behind while also hopefully creeping out at least a few strangers who never saw it coming. But I’ll be leaving a lot of sweet guitars and outfits behind, too. I sure hope none of my relatives do anything stupid with them. But more than that I hope everyone knows how much I loved them, loved them, loved them.
You are the best boy, Davey. Thinking of you both, (and Lu, too). Bittersweet.
Thanks for writing about that subject today. I just recently lost my mom. Her memorial was last Sunday. It was beautiful. I’ve been fortunate to spend time w family and friends that love her. Much love to you and yours!!❤️🩹