We sold the home that my husband spent his life in this week. It was very bittersweet.
I have to admit my guilt when I have been praying for months to get rid of 'that old house in the country' so we could move on with our lives. It wasn't until we sat at the closing table, and the elderly woman who was buying the home with her husband asked him if the tiny footprints in the cement belonged to him, that's when it really hit me. We were selling my husbands memories. His childhood. His last link to the light of his life, his grandmother.
She gave the house to "Bobby" long before I even met Robert. Bobby is what was written in the cement above his little feet. Before we left the closing, the elderly man went in his pocket, and said he had found this little pouch with some silver coins in it at the house while he was sweeping (we let them in prior to closing), and he thought we may like to have it. Robert told them after the closing that anything else they may find, is theirs to keep. Knowing what I've heard of Robert's grandmother, they could become very wealthy if they find one of her many hiding spots.
We decided to go to the house after the closing. The couple showed up. They invited us in, and my husband gave them the history of the home. How the lumber to build the house was actually trees that they cut down off the land. We walked the man the whole perimeter of the property, which took me longer than them, as I was hesitant to walk past a cow, and a goat. Goats stare. It's kinda creepy.
You would think that this woman found a gold mine in this home. The same old home I couldn't wait to get rid of. I say that shamefully now. My husband told stories of his grandmother, and they told us how in just the little time they have been spending in that small town, that everyone knew Maybelle Deaton. If you don't know, BellaMay was named after Roberts grandmother. I can only pray that my daughter turns out to be half the woman that Maybelle was. She lived a very tragic life, and always loved and feared the Lord, and never lost her faith. Not for a minute. Not when she lost a baby right after birth, not when her 10 year old boy was pitching hay, and threw the fork up on the bails and it bounced off something and came back down and killed him. Not when her 27 year old son had a car accident and died. Not when her 56 year old son died of alcoholism. Or when her husband had a series of strokes over a 2 weeks time and passed away. Robert says she never complained, or asked "Why me!", or lost her faith in God.
Now Maybelle is living through our family. By giving my husband this home, we are able to buy a home of our own, so our family can plant our roots. And our little footprints in the cement. And she will live through our home and my husband will think about her every time we make a new memory there. I love that for him.