Dad announced last night that he wanted to throw a barbeque soiree over the weekend at your home in honor of those friends whom have lent helping hands throughout the tireless renovations to your home over the past year.
I guess it came as a shock and most definitely unwelcome blow and reality check. Firstly it rang the final bell; the end is nigh. Secondly it also tugged at the nostalgia cord to my heart, painfully reminding me of what I once dreamed and planned for. Taking me back to the time when you had passed and I would seek refuge at your home, spending hours talking to you there and eventually coming up with my grand plan to protect and keep your memory thriving.
I remember those days so fondly, hiding away from a cruel world where everything was crumbling around me. Friendships lost, finances coming to a crashing halt and the confusion of what to do with myself plagued me daily. But there was always your home to give me comfort. And as soon as you stepped through the threshold your delicate musky scent greeted and enveloped you immediately like a giant, warm hug.
Days were I would think my troubles away and preoccupy myself with the notion of moving into your home and transforming it into a place you would have adored to reside within. Updating and brightening a place that was always comforting and filled with happiness. Walking down the halls and into each room, meticulously measuring here and there and depicting to you what changes I’d love to make. I could have almost sworn you had swooned alongside with me at each fleeting thought. Especially on those days when I would show up with various grey tinted paint swatches and fabric samples in every colour of the rainbow. I even felt you smile at times when I would reminisce and mention how I’d love to host dinner parties or barbeques for our entire family, bringing us all back together under your roof like we used to when I was much younger.
I had visions of changing things inside, changing them with you and that lively personality always in mind and then moving in with my puppy dog and living happily ever after. Grey hued walls with stark white architraves and matching plantation shutters. Ceiling roses adorning the bedroom ceilings and highlighting a bespoke hanging pendant. Dark chocolate brown wooden floorboards and shaggy pewter rugs. An oversized and firm chaise lounge in a white ikat print and accompanied by a statement white Eames chair and ottoman. A huge flat screen TV surrounded by tall display cases showcasing a few favorite coffee table books and your knick knacks. A white kitchen with hints of beech shelving and an impressive grey veined marble bench top. And of course, flowers upon flowers, candles upon candles and all styled brightly in my eccentric bohemian way.
Obviously none of that will came to pass, not now and maybe not even in the near future. The walls were painted in a pink based white that they found lurking in a dark corner of your garage, it’s shade though somewhat warm left a stench that slowly asphyxiated that dainty musk of yours and replaced it with it’s overpowering fumes of death. No plantation shutters only some old, awful green printed drapes and the floors a dull and lifeless shade of brown. The kitchen missing hints of my vision though coming slightly close. And then there is the outdoors. A once thriving spot of flora and fauna now dead and empty, it’s only signs of life being obtrusive large metallic objects and the litter of fine wooden offcuts and paint spills.
A long time ago, this was a home whose doors were always opened wide for me, any day, any night. A place of true love and solace but now it is anything but cold and distant. There is no more peace and certainly no more love to be found within it’s dank walls. We pushed you out, or maybe more appropriately, I pushed you away with my eagerness, tearing you away from the one and only anchor to us here on earth.
The next time I do bravely venture back there Maria, I think will be the time to say my final goodbyes.