I've heard countless times that you should never look back. In fact, my New Year's resolution this year was just that...no looking back. What exactly did I mean by that? At the time, I meant that I wouldn't harbor regrets, that I wouldn't hold grudges, and that I wouldn't contemplate how to change things of days gone by. For the record, I meant this figuratively. For example, I’ve been keeping up with the progress on Etta’s house. Some may think I am torturing myself, perhaps pouring salt into a gaping wound. And though bittersweet, it gives me great comfort to see the transformation of the house…much like the peace of seeing the transformation in Etta’s life, and James while he was here.
Though I suppose there will never be true closure in such a tragic situation, I believe there can be some level of healing. For me, this is finding a way to let go of the devastating images etched in my mind….images of both of them suffering in the reprehensible conditions of their home. One way I can do this is by replacing that horror with images of a home rebuilt, restored, revitalized….doing so gives me hope that beauty really can come from ashes.
I’ve visited the house several times during the reconstruction. Walls torn down, new ones built. Just 3 months after selling the house, it is almost totally renovated. In less than 30 days, the house will be finished and a new family will call it home soon thereafter. [Big Sigh] I will have an opportunity to see the amazing flip and while I look forward to this privilege, I know it won’t be without a little sting. It’s something I’ve got to do for myself and for Etta…knowing she would want to know how this chapter in her story ended.
I expect that Etta will continue to tell me that she is "going home tomorrow" or "I may even try to leave after lunch". It's sad to think this will never be realized, but even more devastating would be if Etta knew this and the reasons why. I'm certain it would break her heart. She has repeatedly told me that she has a "beeauuutiful, big 'ol brick house" that is "full of pretty clothes and shoes." Everytime I bring something new to her room, she reponds with such excitement and gratitude and then the question...."when I leave, which will be soon, will you help me decide where all these things should go in my house...I don't want to leave a thing behind." It's hard to believe she was living as she was and yet has not a hint of recollection of it. No matter what Etta says, I answer her as though what she is thinking is absolute reality. It gives her peace, hope, comfort...and in turn, gives me the same.
Though I suppose there will never be true closure in such a tragic situation, I believe there can be some level of healing. For me, this is finding a way to let go of the devastating images etched in my mind….images of both of them suffering in the reprehensible conditions of their home. One way I can do this is by replacing that horror with images of a home rebuilt, restored, revitalized….doing so gives me hope that beauty really can come from ashes.
I’ve visited the house several times during the reconstruction. Walls torn down, new ones built. Just 3 months after selling the house, it is almost totally renovated. In less than 30 days, the house will be finished and a new family will call it home soon thereafter. [Big Sigh] I will have an opportunity to see the amazing flip and while I look forward to this privilege, I know it won’t be without a little sting. It’s something I’ve got to do for myself and for Etta…knowing she would want to know how this chapter in her story ended.
I expect that Etta will continue to tell me that she is "going home tomorrow" or "I may even try to leave after lunch". It's sad to think this will never be realized, but even more devastating would be if Etta knew this and the reasons why. I'm certain it would break her heart. She has repeatedly told me that she has a "beeauuutiful, big 'ol brick house" that is "full of pretty clothes and shoes." Everytime I bring something new to her room, she reponds with such excitement and gratitude and then the question...."when I leave, which will be soon, will you help me decide where all these things should go in my house...I don't want to leave a thing behind." It's hard to believe she was living as she was and yet has not a hint of recollection of it. No matter what Etta says, I answer her as though what she is thinking is absolute reality. It gives her peace, hope, comfort...and in turn, gives me the same.