29 June 2014

Wee Charlie's Train Ride 3^rd Birthday and Tower Court

Hiya Dad,

            Mom and Jim went back to the tree early this morning before Jim had to get to the airport; he wanted to carve your "signature" exactly like you signed your paintings. Didn't he do it perfectly?

            On the way back home, he and Mom drove by our old house; it was a whim, I guess ~ Mom has never even driven by it, not once in 26 years, even though you guys lived only a quarter a mile away from it.  You know she never wanted to move, that was a crazy thing you did, after we were all grown and moved out. You sold our wonderful house and moved into a bigger house in a pricier neighborhood right up the street ~ honestly, Dad, none of us really understood your need to "show the world."  It was just more cleaning work for Mom. Anyway, Mom and Jim said the old house looked kind of abandoned, and Jim suggested Mom and I go back today after Wee Charlie's party and see if any of the neighbors know what's going on with the house.  Mom has to move; you know full well she can't afford your big house now.  I agreed to take her there after the party; we might as well look into our old house, since she loved it so much.

            I wish we hadn't gone to the birthday party.  Wee Charlie was of course sweet and handsome and perfectly two and half years old ~ I still am not sure how I feel about June birthdays for a 26 December birthday. Erica is so very pregnant; Baby Olive will be here in another month or so. But, Charlie was ~ you know he can be quite sweet, but also he is sometimes so obviously Jamine and Danny's son ~ he was ~ how can I say this?  He did not seem to know or care how hard it was for Mom (and me) to be there, trying to celebrate anything.  He did not spend time with Mom, he did not make sure Wee Charlie spent time with Mom. It was just weird, and hard.  Jamine was mad because we decided not to ride the train back to Fishers; you know the train ride was from Fishers to Noblesville and back to Fishers, but they told us that upon returning to Fishers, we all might be stuck in the parking lot for a while because of the Freedom Festival traffic. Mom and I did not want to chance that happening; so, I drove from our homes in Noblesville to the train station in Fishers and then we rode the train to the Noblesville Square, for the party at Alexander's Ice Cream Parlor. Cris drove our van back to Noblesville to meet us at Alexander's ~ he did not even get to ride the train. I do not know why Jamine was mad: why oh why would we want to ride BACK to Fishers and then drive home to Noblesville if we didn't have to?  The train ride to Noblesville was just too awful, too emotionally hard: Mom, Aly, Johnny, and I all felt too keenly the missing person ~ you, Dad.  I cried as we passed our old backyard at Tower Ct ~ remember, Dad, how much we loved it when the train went by?  It just made me miss you more; I am glad we did not ride the train back.

            Crazy things happen, Dad.  You know I took Mom to the Tower Court house after the party.  It did look abandoned; the grass was long and unkempt, there were vines growing in the gutters.  We talked to the neighbors on both sides (I call them "the new Aumans" and "the new Umingers") and they told us that the man who owned it had died two and half years ago and his young son had been living there, alone, but at age 20 he was not really capable of keeping it up ~ the bank was about to foreclose, the Homeowners' Association had just filed a lien for unpaid dues, the ex-wife was causing problems. The neighbors told us the man had died of a stroke, Dad ~ it turns it was at the same time you had your first stroke two and a half years ago; he was only 56 years old.  The man's brother, who lives in Elkhart, is the executor of the estate; he had to evict his own nephew, the very week you died, Dad.   It is as though that house sat there for two and a half years, waiting ~ waiting for you to pass away, waiting for Mom to be able to come home to it. 

            We looked into the front windows ~ Mom's wooden inside shutters in the living room and dining room are still there, Dad.  From the windows, we could see that there were a few piles of things in the rooms, but clearly, the kid was almost moved out. Mom and I walked around to the back ~ Dad, our beautiful forest is gone, someone cut down ALL the trees.  They put in a three-season screened porch, though. Nice thick wood, beautiful.  Gross outdoor carpet, but the porch itself was nice.  Mom and I went into the porch.  We were peering in the kitchen doors ~ our old sliding glass door was replaced by wide French doors, and suddenly my hand was reaching for the handle.  Dad, as I was reaching, I was thinking to myself, "what the hell are you doing" and as I grasped the door handle, Mom was saying, "Alys what are you doing, that's not going to ~" but she never finished the sentence because THE HANDLE TURNED AND THE DOOR OPENED.  Dad, we were shocked speechless, but we both knew ~ that was YOU making my hand reach for that handle, that was you turning my hand and opening that door.  That was you, saying to Mom, "ok Radka, you win; it is time to come home."

            Dad, you know the rest. We walked through our old house; it was crazy familiar and strangely surreal to see all the sameness and the changes: the color scheme was all bizarre shades of "baby poop" (seriously, every possible horrible shade of baby poop you can imagine) and your walnut paneling was covered by regular drywall, and my old room was painted blood red.  It was crazy. But it was still home.  I knew in that moment that if there was any way to get that house for Mom, we would all die trying.
Love,
Alys