On the subject of Dreams and Memories of a Palace

"So leave the memories alone,
I don't want to see,
The way it is, as to how it used to be,
Leave the memories alone, don't change a thing,
And I'll hold you here in my memory"

After three years, my father's house sold yesterday, and with it, the dreams of everything he worked for.

That house was his pride and joy. On the waterfront, bigger than life, a place to truly call home.

I never got to live there for an extended period of time... only a vacation, a holiday or two, but it was my home as well. They had built a separate apartment above the garage that was originally designed to be my room... instead it turned pink and became the guest room. And that's OK.

On a ocean fed creek, "UpDaCreek" was a palace of its time, without being ostentatious. Driving up to it, it just had a feeling of welcomeness unlike any other. From the porch that swung all around the house to the understated landscaping to those hanging plants that twisted in the summer winds, the house seemed to say "come on in and sit a spell."

All on one level, my folk's place had the great room of all great rooms. 30 feet by 30 feet with one wall totally windows to see the creek outside and the ocean beyond. Outside the french doors was a screened in porch with a series of rocking chairs. The porch started on one end of the house and sprawled all the way to the other end.

It was this porch I will remember the most. On an autumn day in 1994, after a week of driving rains and floods, the most beautiful day appeared. Most people in the south that Saturday were probably watching College Football. I was standing in the midst of many of my friends, and family, on a porch turned wedding chapel. In front of my parent's room, where the hanging swing usually was, my love and I exchanged vows and promised ourselves to each other for the rest of time.

The rest of time now will not include that place we stood. I somehow knew that as each and every time I went to visit my parents, or my Dad after Mom had passed, the last thing I would do is go stand on the very spot and remember, and dream, and swear I would be back there again.

The last time I stood there was June, three years ago, when I left my Dad's house after laying him to rest in the creek behind the house, just where we had spread my Mother's ashes five years prior. They will forever be a part of that landscape, their dust a part of the earth they loved so much.

My Dad told me on his death bed that at least he could die knowing that the house could help pave the way towards making life better for all of us. He had no idea of what the economy would do to those dreams.

My wife and I are talking about going back to help empty the house, a task already underway thanks to the executors of the estate who want to have the closing as soon as possible. I have mixed feelings. Do I want to go back? Can I go back, or will the memories be too much?

One of my favorite tribute songs, best used for of all things Pro Wrestler Ric Flair, is "Leave the Memories Alone." It's kind of how I feel right now. The sadness is overwhelming.

But it is in this sadness that I reach out. There are friends of mine that hurt much more today. From the loves they thought they had that turned out to be lies. From the jobs they sweated on to only be told that sweat was in vain. From the kids they love that need to heal from tragic accidents. They need my steady mind, my unwavering hand, my hug to let them know someone is there for them.

So maybe the dreams of my Dad's house did not die yesterday. Instead they live in the spirit described above. Dreams are not defined in dollars, they are instead built on love... so they do live.

Thank you, Dad.