“A house is made of brick and stone, but a home is made of love alone.
This was my parent’s last house together. It recently sold at an auction that I was there to witness. I was overcome with emotions as my sister and I walked out of it for the last time, knowing we will never be back at this place – the place that my Mama and Daddy called home for the last 30 years. Daddy passed in April and I remember the day in early March that he was carried out on a stretcher on his way to the E.R. my sister and I looked at each other and said “he’ll never be back here.” And that proved to be the case.
This was the place their 6 grandchildren and their 12 great-grandchildren knew as Memaw’s and Pawpaw’s house. It’s where Daddy said a prayer of thanksgiving for every bite of food eaten around the kitchen table; for the cornbread cooked in that black cast iron skillet, for the blackberry cobblers, and fried chicken cooked up by Mama; where grand kids and then later, great grands, played on the rolling green slope of the backyard. It was here that he and my Mama took care of the almost 4 acres, tending flowers and growing vegetables. It’s the place where, on one cold December day nearly 10 years ago, my Daddy told my Mama not to feed the stray yellow lab that showed up on their doorstep or they would never get rid of her. And that yellow lab named Princess by my Daddy, who had never been a dog person, became his faithful canine companion as he began to suffer from the effects of the dementia that would eventually take him. It’s the place where he and my mother spent almost half of their 61+ years of married life, so the memories run deep and strong.
And now Daddy has gone on to his final home; Mama has moved into a new home. And of course we will make new memories there. But we will miss my Daddy and we will reminisce about the times that were shared at this 3 bedroom brick ranch house right off Horse Mountain Road and Philippi Church Road, the place where my parents lived, loved, and they built a home.