I know that in the scheme of things, there are much worse things going on in the world, but my heart is rather broken tonight.
My dad grew up on a small island in South Florida. My grandparents were among the first inhabitants of this island, and the first to build their house in the late 1940s. One of my favorite pictures is my grandmother standing in front of the house with three young children (my aunt and two uncles) and there’s nothing but open space around them. They raised one daughter and four sons, who then brought 7 grandchildren into the world.
The beach is two long blocks from the house - an easy walk. There’s a small family-owned supermarket and ice cream store within 2 short blocks. The dock and a bar/restaurant that’s gone through several overhauls in my lifetime are there, and they have always been a place for my family to go and eat and drink. Up at the beach, there’s a Tiki bar that has a Cajun festival every year. I’ve spent several years dancing to zydeco with my cousin, who is now a priest.
As kids, we typically went to the island for Christmas. We were usually joined by numerous other family, celebrated with my grandparents, and spent Christmas morning anxiously awaiting Santa’s trip around the island - on a fire truck, wearing shorts, and throwing candy to all of the waiting kids.
My cousins and I have grown up there…playing the piano, walking to the water tower and inlet, playing a game that my grandmother invented that was a combination of poker, gin rummy, and dominoes, and as we got older, we brought our spouses, and now we’ve begun to bring our children.
Nowadays, if you go to the island, the streets are full of houses. As the years pass, the houses are refurbished, or torn down and rebuilt with McMansions. However, the supermarket is still there (and now we go to buy alcohol instead of candy), and Santa still makes his yearly visit via fire truck.
Last year in March, my grandmother passed away. My grandfather joined her several months later. My family has been trying to keep the house - the trust set up has gone dry, and my dad, uncles, and aunt have decided that it’s time to sell the house - we don’t have the money to pay the enormous taxes on the house each year.
I’m devastated. I know it’s just a house, but it’s a huge part of my childhood, it’s where my dad grew up, it’s where my cousins and I spent a good portion of our lives. I know that there’s no other option, I really do, but my heart hurts. I had planned to go down for a week for vacation at the end of June to spend some time with my cousins, and now I’m glad that I’ve planned this trip with my son because it will be our last chance to be together in our home away from home.
I’m not worried about losing my family. My cousins are more like siblings to me, so we will always find a way to get together. I am worried that instead of someone buying the house and remodeling it, they will tear it down and build a new house instead. And that would be the biggest hurt of all.
It’s out of my hands, it’s out of my cousins’ hands, it’s out of all of our hands at this point, but I’ve decided this is one part of being an adult that I absolutely hate. I hate saying goodbye to parts of my childhood. Yet I know it’s necessary. My cousins and I will still raise our kids together, it just won’t be in the home that we all hold so close to our hearts. But we’ll make sure they know all about it, and we’ll keep the traditions that we learned from our grandparents and pass them down.
Still, I feel very, very sad and am going to need some time to say goodbye.