Immediately my rational side took over, saying it was inevitable and feeling slightly happy that we could all put it behind us.
Slowly though, as I got out of the car to take this picture, the emotional side crept in and I began to realize what this actually meant. The home where we had all grown up was soon to be no more. No more like it had never existed. The safe place you could always go back to, to make that important connection to the past. The place that was a living museum of our lives. The backdrop of so many family photos, scooped into a dumpster and carted off.
I went back the next day and have the unfortunate opportunity to meet the purchaser. He was a fast talking little fellow who drove a fancy sportscar. He spent the better part of an hour telling a couple of long time neighbours and myself how great he is and how the new monster home he'll be building on the lot would be so much easier if there hadn't been a house there in the first place. As it if was merely a nuisance.
Not a particularly sensitive fellow as he knew it had been my family home. He didn't do much to change my already negative view of RE agents and their ilk. At least he let me in for one more walk through of the backyard. After what I was greeted by, I should have left well enough alone.
Before this, allow me to show you how lovely the backyard was. My Dad (and Mom) put a lot of effort into creating and maintaining this little oasis.
August 2011 with Jed.
June 30th 2013.
This was a photo my Mom took in 2006.
June 30, 2013
Barring a typhoon, demolition is et to begin tomorrow, July 2nd. My Dad's birthday. Not the greatest gift Dad.
I may go down to witness the carnage. I think it would be cathartic. It will probably just be sad.
