Apartment 1001 in 2013 – nothing new


There is a showing tomorrow in apartment 1001 and so I needed to be sure that it was in good shape and I needed to pick up the mail.

I went this afternoon for a “check-up” and to wish Mom and Dad a Happy New Years.

I don’t know what I expected.

I walked in and the room was dark.

I turned on the light.

I looked around.

It smelled fresh.

The place was empty.  Mom didn’t say, “hi”.  Dad didn’t say, “hi”.  What did I expect? I knew they were both at a better address – yet, I felt their “hello”.  I felt their “excitement” to see me.  They were always excited by a surprise visit.

I went to the pantry to check things out.  Nothing new.

I went to Dad’s room.  Nothing new.

I went to Mom’s room.  Nothing new.

I poured myself a glass of wine to cheer them with.  Nothing new (grin).

I cleaned the glass.  I had a cry.  Nothing new.

I left and locked the door behind me.

I opened the door – half expecting to see them giggle sitting in their chairs – as if they really had not passed away and they were just checking to see if I’d say, “TTFN” and “I love you”.   But, there was no one.  Nothing new.

What had I expected?  I don’t know.  This is a new place and space for me in 2013 as it is for my departed parents.  It is new – but there is nothing new.

And as I exited the building – and apartment 1001, the reflection of the sunset caught my eye.  It was Dad – I know it was – saying, “TTFN”.  “I love you, Stacey.” And delightedly I thought, “nothing new”.  Thank God.

The Setting Sun - nothing new

The Setting Sun – nothing new

 

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Categories: Life's Lessons | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

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11 thoughts on “Apartment 1001 in 2013 – nothing new

  1. The night my father died, before I knew he died, I was at home. Sitting in my house. Having FINALLY gotten the children to go to sleep. When I saw one of them in their white T-SHirt night gowns run behind me AGAIN. I turned to say “go to bed” and only got “go to…” out of my mouth before I realized no one was there. I chuckled. I had always told the girls if something catches their eye (or thoughts) and they can’t turn quick enough to see them it is the angels playing with them. You didn’t open that door quick enough. 😉

    • Okay – so this one gave me shivers. Colleen, I have a cousin who had the same “door” experience – but she was too afraid to even open the door. She was sure her mother (passed away) was sitting the her chair on the other side of the door. I didn’t want to walk away thinking I had missed that opportunity. Next time – I will be quicker than that! Thank-you. You are full of wisdom and hope for me.

      • Aw thanks, but I bet you got that ‘hope’ from a couple of amazing parents. And wisdom? I’ll take it!! (whether it’s true or not). Hang in there Stacey. Sometimes it’s the only thing to do.

  2. A bittersweet story. Glad you saw your dad though. {Hugs}

    • It’s getting better – thanks for the on-going hugs and support, RoSy. And for not telling me “get over it”. My parents are worth the on-going thoughts.

  3. Hello,
    I’ve nominated you for an award : )
    http://spiritualboosters.wordpress.com/2013/01/06/the-liebster-blog-award/
    Congratulations!

    • Thank-you so much! I am completely illiterate about blogging – I simply write. So – I will try to figure out what this means and how to negotiate this nomination – with the best of intentions – please do not be offended if nothing happens as a result – I am just learning…

  4. Poignant. The spaces our family occupy are very important, I believe. I still dream of my grandmother in her house and go from room to room looking for her. Now I think she is just above me somewhere or maybe a little to the side. 🙂

    • Its nice to know that others feel the same way. I sometimes feel so alone and sometimes so comforted. Above all else – I love it when my parents come to visit me in my dreams. Bless your grandmother – and I hope you find her one day! Thanks for following and the wonderful comment!

  5. This was such a sweet post. I liked the unusual format; I felt like I was there with you.

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