Mourning a House, But Not Just a House

My family, for reasons too complicated and confusing to explain, is selling my grandfather’s house in Connecticut. He and my grandmother bought it in the seventies, a 1747 saw mill that was in desperate need of someone to love it. They converted it into a home together, a true feat of inspiration and ingenuity. They both loved and lived and died there. It was, simply put, a full house.

—Our friend Amy Merrick’s beautiful essay about selling and saying goodbye her grandparents’ house is really heartbreaking—so much so that to even imagine saying that it’s just stuff, it’s just a house, seems somehow sacrilegious. I don’t know the complicated and confusing reasons the house had to be sold, but if I had a zillion dollars, I’d give it to Amy so she could buy it back up. Photo by Amy Merrick.



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