after we have left our homes

“when can we start over?”

those are the full lyrics to mute math's "after we have left our homes" interlude. of course, their wait-weary lament has hurricane katrina as its context. thanks be to God, i can't claim such a disaster as the reason for my own lamenting. if you recall me blogging recently that the house where i grew up... the house my grandfather built... the only house that has ever been home to me... burned down. it's gone now. it's so gone.

i went to bakersfield this weekend to celebrate both my and my sister's birthdays. of course, while i was there, i had to see what happened to my home. it wasn't pretty. very little of what i knew remained. the house's warm yellow has been replaced with a cold mint color. the awnings have been taken off of the front. the flower beds bulldozed away. the grass unkempt and wild. the front is about all that's intact. the inside was all burned away. the fire must have destroyed a lot. i haven't seen the house or even been down the street in nearly two years.

it's been through a lot. even before the fire, the character had been slowly stripped away from the house. one family member's dispute with a neighbor resulted in property lines being reevaluated and an ugly fence driven through the center of what used to be a second driveway under a carport. it's not the same. it itself is so far from home now, that i can hardly hurt for its demise.

“there's nothin' else to know
just let it go
yeah, we'll do without it somehow
the world's gone
don't think about it
'cause life is short
we'll do without it
oh we can move on forward, don't worry
the best we've known is yet to come
we can move on forward, don't worry
the worst won't get the best of us.”
- mute math, “without it”

i can also not blame myself for it. factors far outside my own control led to this. some things disappeared from the house as soon as my grandfather passed away. someone's drug rampage resulted in most of the furniture in the house being sold away. someone else's tragic lack of money management put the house in debt. someone else's financial pressures led to it being sold outside the family. from there, i don't know if it received much tender loving care.

“i see our fate
i see our past
and all the things
that could not last
it's heavy on these eyes
frozen as i hold this photograph
it's all we're left that's of any worth
and it's so much more than a thousand words
now in this frame is our only way we can endure

i pictured
you and me
always
and in this photograph
we're safe

all i have
in my head
and all the words
i wish i'd said
sentimental thoughts
are overwhelming me again
as i stare through a lens of tears
a thought remains of those fallen years
now in the frame, memories i held to persevere

i pictured
you and me
always
and in this photograph
we're safe

coping
with this loss has broken me
and i'm just hoping
things are all as they should be”
- mute math, “picture”

really, for all intents and purposes, this is a death in the family, but i'm not sad. a lot like when my grandfather passed away, i was glad that the suffering was over. in this case, it's my suffering. now that it's over, it doesn't depress me when i'm in the city and i drive too close to my old neighborhood.

for several hours this weekend, i just drove up and down the streets remembering what i can remember. like i've never really stopped thinking of my grandfather. probably never will. but lately, instead of grieving me, the memories only make me smile.

“a place in time
still belongs to us
stays preserved
in my mind
in the memories
there is solace

never too far away
i won't let time erase
one bit of yesterday
'cause i have learned that
nobody can take your place
though we could never be
i'll keep you close to me
always remember
love.”
- mariah carey, “never too far”

i climbed through an open window in the front and looked inside. the house has been completely gutted. there were no walls, but they had already started to rebuild. only wooden framework was in place. the roof was new. i walked through and tried to remember where everything was. where everything would go if it wasn't just a shell. little clues triggered things here and there, but little of anything was as it used to be.

still.

when i closed my eyes that night. i could remember everything. the cut of the carpet, flower shaped waste baskets, the sign that hung over the office, the smell of fresh soil in the morning when my grandparents tended to the garden, fights we had, games we played, things we built, pictures we kept. a whole life.

as i walked through the hallways as empty as anything, i called out to God. and i made a request that i know he will answer. since i know it's far too late to get back what i used to have. but i asked him to give me a home that no one can take away from me. some place i can call home. someplace i will protect. someplace that's mine.

in the meantime, i remember so much.
of everything.

at least those are mine.

and no one can take those away from me.