Turning a home into a house isn’t an easy thing to do. It is bittersweet. My sisters, Roberta and Tanya, and I have had that experience with our mom’s home over the past few weeks – removing 61 years of life, love and laughter, so the house becomes neutral, and ready for the next owners.

The three of us spent a couple of days going through things the week after mom’s funeral, and then I returned to Virginia for a couple of weeks. During my time away, they did a lot of the heavy lifting around the house – getting rid of old clothes, emptying the closets, removing some old items that were of no value, and moving furniture around to improve the look a bit.

When I returned a week ago, we were going over more of mom’s personal items. We went through her hope chest, several small cedar boxes, her jewelry boxes,  and containers of papers and photos. As we were looking through all of them, we found things that were funny, sad, historic, and sometimes, just odd. There were many we had never seen before.

– There was grandpa’s perfect school attendance record from 1907, and mom’s report cards from grade school through high school; 

– Christmas cards from 1949, along with the Christmas card from dad to mom when he gave her the cedar chest in 1948.  

– There was a letter from an Ottawa GI who was in Germany in March of ’45, and hoping the war would soon be over. (He called mom “Toots” in the letter).

– Mom’s garter from her wedding.

– Les Paul and Bing Crosby records from the late 40s or early 50s.  

– Vintage 1950s era naked playing cards (I’m assuming they were dad’s).

– Obituaries of friends and relatives.

– Collected papers, photos, and school stuff from us kids, and all of the grandkids.

– Newspapers from when Kennedy was shot, and Nixon resigned.

– Notes and notebooks from trips, grocery lists, and sometimes just reminders about things around the house.

There was LOTS more, but you get the idea…

We laughed a lot, but also had moments of sadness or pause. For me, finding all the letters from my first year at West Point brought me up short (She’d already given me the penny I’d swallowed). And, silly as it sounds, what do you do with a telephone number (and an actual telephone that still works) that have been in the family since 1956? We made our way through the week, keeping some things, and throwing others away. We slowly removed the soul from the home.

On Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, we had a cookout with the whole family, including kids and grandkids, and our Uncle Don, mom’s last surviving sibling. Before dinner, the grandkids had their own moments of joy and sadness. It was their turn to pick out things they would like to keep as memories of grandma, or just things they could use. And so the clock went, along with knicknacks, Christmas decorations, candy dishes (mom loved M&Ms and jelly beans), some of the furniture and dishes. From the garage, dad’s tools and railroad artifacts, as well as lawn chairs all moved out.

That night, after everyone left, I finished cleaning up and wandered around a bit. It was the same house that I’d known since mom and dad bought it in 1956, and yet it wasn’t. It was all a bit colder, or emptier. Maybe the soul was gone, and it really was just a house, and no longer a home.  

I went to bed, but not really to sleep. Too much emotion…. to many thoughts rattling around my head…. wisps of dreams…. seemingly strange noises from outside….   Finally, I heard the birds starting to chirp in the yard and got up. It wasn’t quite light yet, but it was getting close. I made a pot of coffee and took a quick shower. It was time to get on the road and head to my own home, 750 miles away.




Cathy was driving up the Autobahn at just over 100 mph. It was the 8th of August, 1982. I was a Captain in the Army, and mom and dad had been visiting us in Germany for about 10 days.  We were heading from Stuttgart to Wurzburg to link up with a friend and go to a Weinfest in the small town of Frickenhausen. Ric had been to the fest the night before, and called to tell us we needed to make this one – it was really good. We didn’t want to be late and Cathy covered the 100 miles in about an hour. We parked, walked up to the tent, and  Ric greeted us as we arrived.

          “How’s it going”?

          “Good – how was the fest last night”?  

          “It was crazy – you are going to love it. People were standing on the benches clapping and singing to the music. You couldn’t hear yourself think”!

We introduced Ric to mom and dad, and he retold the story of people dancing, clapping and singing while standing on the benches around the tables.

At that point, mom interjected – “Well, I don’t think I’ll be standing on the benches – not with my bad leg”. We looked at mom, but didn’t say anything. We then entered the festival tent, and joined about 2,000 Germans for the fest. We found a table, and then Ric and I went to get some wein for the five of us.

The night went on, and we had more wine. Somewhere along the way we had brats and other food. The band was in the center of the tent and playing lots of great oompa music and polkas. Cath and I danced a couple of times and everybody was feeling pretty good.

And then it happened. The band shifted gears and broke into Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood”, one of mom and dad’s favorite songs. Dad grabbed mom’s hand to head to the dance floor. Mom resisted only briefly, and then followed dad towards the floor. They got to the main aisle, and it was jammed with people dancing and they couldn’t get any further, so they started dancing there.

If you never saw my folks dance, I have to tell you, they were GREAT dancers. Like many couples who had been together for a long time, they had their own style. Cathy and I use to call the way they danced the ‘Bill and Gen’ – it was a modified boogie-woogie. They were perfect at it when dancing to “In The Mood”.

So, there they were, in the middle of the aisle, doing the ‘Bill and Gen’ dancing to Glenn. A space started forming around them as other nearby couples stopped dancing and started watching them. The space turned into a circle. The circle got bigger. Soon, there was a circle of maybe 20 feet around them, with all of the Germans watching the two dance. But it didn’t stop there. Behind the first circle, the Germans were standing on the benches and formed a second circle around mom and dad. They were in the zone. The band got to that great coda at the end of the tune, and with the third and final repeat of the last stanza, the song finally ended. 

There was a fraction of a a second of silence, and then the crowd went nuts. They were clapping, pointing, stomping and whooping all at the same time. As mom and dad made their way back to the table, the Germans were slapping them on the back, toasting them, and offering them glasses of wein and schnapps. It was a perfect moment. Mom was flushed and smiling. Dad was outright laughing.

Later that night, mom was standing  on the benches with the rest of us. Clapping, singing, and moving her feet in time with the music…..

It was in June of 1947, almost 70 years ago, that mom and dad first met. Mom had just finished her sophomore year in high school and turned 16  in April. She’d just started a regular job as a waitress at Prince Castle, a local hamburger/ice cream joint. Dad was 23. He’d been out of the army since August of 1945, and settled into a job as a driver for Bradford’s laundry.

One day that June, he was at the Prince Castle restaurant picking up laundry, and he met mom. A couple of days later, picking up laundry, he met her again. They talked some, and he asked if he could walk her home from the restaurant that night. She said…..yes.  Mom got off around 11, and dad was waiting outside. Prince Castle was on the west side of town, only a few blocks from where mom lived on Chestnut Street. He walked her home that night. And the next night. And the night after that. They eventually started dating.

Now, dad didn’t know that mom was only 16, and mom wasn’t going to tell him. He assumed she was about to be a senior, or had maybe just graduated from high school. Mom didn’t tell him her real age, because she thought it would scare him off. She kept waiting for her mom (my Grandma) to say something, and she was ready for that – Grandma married my grandpa, when she was 16, and he was 26. Grandma never did bring it up…..;-)

They dated that summer, doing various things around town. And then dad asked mom if she wanted to go to the Illinois State Fair with him. It was downstate, but he had a buddy with a car who was taking his date to the Fair. If mom and dad wanted to, they could double date with them. They’d drive down early in the morning, spend the day at the fair, and come back that night. Mom agreed to go.

August 17, 1947 dawned and they headed to Springfield for the fair. They spent the day looking at the displays, riding the rides, and having a good time in general. Finally, it was time to return and they piled into the car for the long ride home.  

The ride was uneventful to begin with. Then, about half way home someone ran a stop sign on a country road, and T-Boned their car. The impact was violent, and completely flipped the car over onto it’s top . This was, of course, before seatbelts and they were all thrown about, as were their belongings. The four climbed out of the upside down car, and although they were shaken up, miraculously, all appeared to be unhurt. Dad, who would find out later that he had a small fracture in one of his legs, went out to the road to direct traffic around the accident.

Eventually, dad walked back over to mom and the car. Along the way, he found mom’s wallet which was thrown open and laying on the side of the road. Picking it up, he glanced at her driver’s license which was on the top of the wallet. Then he suddenly stopped, looked at mom, and exclaimed “You’re HOW OLD?!?!”

And that was how dad found out mom was only 16. It didn’t stop them from dating though, and they ended up getting married about 2 1/2 years later in May of 1950, a year after she graduated from OHS. Mom and dad remained married for 60 years, until dad passed away in 2010. 

 They outlasted the Prince Castle restaurant by several decades. After the restaurant closed, the building later served as a barbershop and a craft store among other things. Although the building is still there on West Main Street, it’s currently shuttered. I don’t know if it brought any other couples together, but I smile thinking about Bill and Gen meeting there in the summer of ’47.

Mom is mostly laying quietly now. She occasionally makes a movement, or waves a hand, or mouths something. She’s making her final journey. We are here in the room, but she’s making this journey alone.

At 86, she’s lived a full life, and a great life at that. But it doesn’t change the sadness we are feeling right now.  The last two months have been hard on her. The leg injury and weakness; the blood infection; the moves between hospitals, acute care, skilled nursing, and back to the hospital have been tough. Mom’s a fighter, and until five days ago, we were hopeful that she would make a transition to assisted living. Then, she took a turn for the worse and went back to the hospital.  After meeting with the doctor, we had a conversation with her yesterday about where things stood. She was lucid and understood that without heroic measures, her time was very limited. She, and we, all agreed on the course of action.  

At one point in time yesterday, she awoke from a nap. My sisters and I were standing at the end of the bed. She looked at us and said “Well, am I dead yet?”. Then she smiled a small smile to let us in on the joke.

Around 5PM, we had another conversation with mom and said “Mom, later after you finish dinner, and are back in bed, we are going to have dinner and then head to Roberta’s to get some rest ourselves. We’ll plan on seeing you in the morning”. She looked at us and said “Well, I won’t see you. I’ll be gone.” And smiled again…

Today, we arrive back at the hospital this morning and checked in with the nurse. After we left last night, mom went to sleep. She didn’t wake up all night, and hasn’t woken yet today. Like her mother before her, our Grandma Grubaugh, mom seems to be calling her own shots all the way to the end. Just as she predicted, she hasn’t seen us in person today.

She is mostly laying quietly now. She occasionally makes a movement, or waves a hand, or mouths something. She’s making her final journey. We are here in the room with her, comforting each other and letting her know she is not alone………..

………Later that evening, we said our goodbyes to mom. As I kissed her forehead, I whispered to her that we were all doing well, and it was OK to go and join dad. As we left the hospital, Tanya headed to Ottawa, while Cathy and I went with Roberta to her home. We reached her house, had a small dinner, and went to bed.

Just after 3:30AM, my phone rang. I answered it, and went into the kitchen. It was the hospital. Mom passed away peacefully at 3:19. Roberta and Jack came in to the kitchen, as did Cathy and I told all of them, but of course, they already knew. We then called Tanya to let her know. We hugged each other, and we were glad that mom was at peace.

Our dog Carmen also got up with us and was antsy, so I took her out for a brief walk. We were wandering around outside in the dark, and all of a sudden I heard a train whistle in the distance. For those who aren’t aware, dad was a railroad man most of his adult life. The Burlington, Rock Island, Chessie – he worked them all. The whistle sounded again, and I knew things were alright.   Dad had come to pick up mom for the rest of her journey.

********

Mom passed away early on the 28th of April. I wrote the first half of this piece in the hospital room on the last day, when we were sitting with her. The rest was written about a week later. I’ve thought about that train whistle a lot since that night. If I had gone out 5 minutes earlier, or 5 minutes later, I might have missed it. But then again, maybe not.

Please, no sad posts here. Don’t feel sad for her, or for us. She had a wonderful life. If you want to honor her, dance, have a drink, or listen to some jazz. Enjoy life. That’s what she did, and what she would want you to do. It’s later than you think.