If home is where my mom is, then my home is now in heaven.
I never get to go home again.
Not on Earth, anyways.
They say, “Home is where your mom is.”
Well, it’s true.
My mother died after a decade-long battle with early onset Alzheimer’s disease in 2013.
If home is where my mom is, then my home is now in heaven.
I never get to go home again.
My dad no longer owns my childhood home.
He and my mom moved out of it right before I got married.
I no longer own my grandparents’ house where my mom grew up.
I sold it a few years ago to help pay for my grandmother’s assisted living and memory care expenses.
The girl who owns it now makes and sells amazing candles and home goods.
And I recently even sold my grandpa’s ranch where he and his mother were born. It had been in my mother’s family since 1827.
(Truth be told, I did not visit the ranch for the last decade. It hurt my heart too much to see the 1888-built farmhouse falling down. So I finally let it go.)
I visit my mom and my grandparents in the cemetery.
Every special place from my childhood and my mom’s childhood is now off limits.
Someone else now owns every home.
Now, I visit my mom and my grandparents in the cemetery where they are buried.
And, sometimes, I visit them and those special places in my dreams.
My home is now in heaven.
But I never get to go home again.
Not on Earth, anyways.
Because if home is where my mom is, then my home is now in heaven.
A version of the post was originally published September 21, 2021.
