Ending a chapter in my life...

Life is hard.  Life is so many ups and downs and twists and turns sometimes I lose which direction I am facing.  This last week we I was called by my mom, Grandpa's house sold.  This is a huge answer to prayer, with the economy and it being small town NE, and the Monroe (Tenneco) plant closing, call for people to move to Cozad or buy houses is slim.  So, the house sold...which is good...but that meant the house needed to be cleaned out...from top to bottom every drawer, cupboard and shelf.  I volunteered to go with my folks and help since well, frankly, no one else would.  So I packed up the girls and away we went.  We got there Saturday afternoon and I left Monday afternoon...day in and day out sorting, throwing away, packing up...an experience I wanted to be a part of and good in many ways...but so hard. 

As we are sorting it hits me...this is it.  This is all there is...after the house is done and Grandma and Grandpa's belongings are sorted and packed or sold that's it...they're gone.  The house is done...I will never be back there again...there's no reason.  The house that has so many memories for me, the joy and elation I felt as a child driving up to their house knowing Grandma would be standing at the door waiting, the smell of the house, all the little knick knacks and decorations that made Grandma's house Grandma's house...all gone...some packed up lovingly to be used in my own home, many going to be sold.  That's harder than I expected. 

It's hard knowing I have no call to go back to Cozad, a place that seemed like a second home...the place I spent so many summers and weekends growing up.  No more sleeping on the fold out or on grandma's frilly pink twin beds.  No more stubbing my leg on the ridiculous twin footboards.  No more listening to gramps snore away in the next room.  All the memories so vivid...there is pain knowing too those will fade with time...

I took an afghan my Grandma crocheted...yeah she made me one years ago...but it's ugly...it's ugly because my Grandma was a stubborn woman...a stubborn woman who rather than listen to her granddaughter's wishes and use the yarn we bought her to make a afghan for me, made one SHE chose which wound up to be bright yellow and turquoise (keep in mind I love yellow and turquoise, but these were obnoxious shades)rather than pale yellow and a soft varigated blue.  So, I took one she made...one I will set out proudly and lovingly proclaim my grandmother made it...and I will keep the other, because she made it for me and will always hold it dear even if I hate the colors.  I held it to my chest last night and breathed deep, it smells like Cozad, it smells like my Grandma...and despite it's need for a wash...I refuse...memories fade and so will my Grandparent's smell...and I am not ready to face that yet.

I stood in the kitchen going through a cupboard and found the mug I gave Grandpa...it said, "the worldest greatest grandpa" and he was...I remember giving that to him...I remember him loving it...I looked inside, the coffee stained interior reminded me it was loved.  Mom handed me the popsicle stick box I had made for my Grandma...the one she so proudly kept her lipsticks in for YEARS AND YEARS...the duck I made out of wood blocks and painted when I was like 6 that gramps kept atop his rifle cabinet since the day I gave it to him...but what now?  I mean...what do you do with that stuff?  I don't want it back...I gave it to them...memories loved but now thrown away. 

It appears the Cozad chapter of my life is about done.  I will probably go back for holidays (my uncle requests turkey day out there so he can hunt) since the farm is still in the family...but my grandparents house is gone...the memories are there, the house is there, but the house isn't theirs anymore and therefore not mine.  My heart breaks with shutting the door on this chapter...I want so badly for them to still be in my life, and somehow, with the house not sold and sitting there with all their things...they still were. 
So here we are...a new level in the grieving process, something new I have not experienced and have decided I do not like.  I hate goodbyes...I hated saying goodbye to my grandparents and hate even more that I am slowly having to let go of things their memories are attached to...but, I guess that comes with the ending of another chapter of life.