The night before I got married I wrote a blog post. I’d link you to it, but I’m tired. And y’all are big kids, you can find it if you really want to.
I’m spending another last night in this big empty house. Something I never thought I’d be doing. Yet here I am, the walls echoing, the boxes packed, the plan made. Here I am. Leaving Front Royal. Ending an Era.
I hated this place. I hated my parents for making me move in between tenth and eleventh grade, dragging me away from an intensive art program, my friends, the Beach. All for goofy Front Royal with its Mountains and Hills and Rivers.
And I love goofy Front Royal with its Mountains and Hills and Rivers.
I made a Home here. I made a community of moms here. I made and birthed three beautiful children I got to meet and three who I will meet later. I laughed and cried here and made some pretty awful mistakes that I thought made me unlovable and unworthy. And God took that brokenness and gave me Blair. God gave me a Church Family here. One that has blown my mind and carried me because God gave me a lot of things I couldn’t carry.
That Church Family loved my baby’s I lost during Miscarriages. They treated me as though I’d lost any other person. If you ever want to see if a Church truly believes in the sanctity of life, look at how they treat Mothers who have had miscarriages or still births...be part of those Churches who honor even their tiniest members.
This community carried us when we had Dean. I can’t even...oh I’m not even sure I can *go* there. It’s too much. It feels too much. Because it is too much.
I’m sitting in the same room I sat in the night before I got married. The night before my Daddy walked me down the aisle. Before we slowed shuffled together.
Moving makes me *feel* like he’s dying faster. Nothing will stop that feeling. Oh I know it’s not true and I know that feelings have no intelligence and that they are simply that, feelings. But they are there. And I must take them down off the shelf and visit them so I’m not consumed by them.
I will never regret moving with my Mom and Dad. I will never regret the time I am spending with my Dad right now. I know he is dying. I have been a witness to it every day, all day, since February First when we moved in here. It was part of the deal. And I am not sorry we did it. I never will be. He has fought long and hard and I am proud of him for it. I am glad I get to see my Daddy every morning. I am glad I was here to listen to my mom rage at the injustice and unfairness of it all. I am glad I caught her when Mawmaw died in the middle of revamping the house to sell it. I am proud of the way we handled our one big fight.
If houses told stories...I think you’d want to hear the one this house could tell about our family.
I think You’d want to sit and listen about this crazy family with all the kids that was loud and messy and wonderful. You could hear all about Nate passing out on the front lawn, sledding with my sister in law Karynne, eating Thanksgiving dinner one the living room because we didn’t fit in the dining room. Or about the time Zeb and I made a flame thrower in the garage, or Evie and ‘wrassling on the front lawn or when my moms legs cramped up in the pool we had a couple years. And all about the times we fought and yelled, because we did that. We did that a lot. It could get loud and scary. And then we forgave and moved on. Something I think more people need to learn.
You would sit and hear the story of our last Christmas together, here. How my siblings dropped everything to be here. How we crammed into the living room. How my oldest brother read the Christmas story to us all while my Dad held Dean in his lap...
The magical mundane every day things have captured my heart. They are what brings tears to my eyes. My mom sweeping the kitchen again or throwing pots and pans in the sink when she’s mad. Remember the sound of my Dads footsteps thundering down the stairs to ask me something. The way he yelled at me for not wearing pants and the time I caught him letting the dog out at 3 AM I’m his underwear. How he refused to get the AC fixed and the stupid Window. units we insisted he put in so we all didn’t die of heat stroke.
I used to hate these magical mundane moments.
But now I realize they write the most amazing story I’ve ever been privilege to be part of. The story of a family. And honestly...that’s amazing.
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