Dreams

My father often had vivid dreams.  In the past year he had a recurring one involving his mother who passed away in '97.  She would appear at the end of a long path or hallway, an open doorway between them.  She would call to him, tell him it was time.  "I'm not ready, Mom," he would reply, aggressively shutting the door in her face.

When I went to visit my father in June, he relayed that my grandmother had been visiting him again.  This time he told her he was ready, as soon as the business was sold and my mother was taken care of.  The business he was referring to hadn't been their business since they retired eleven years ago.  But the property was still theirs.  Tenants had been renting the space, but didn't renew their contract in 2011.  Given the housing market, the vacant property began to weigh heavily on my parents.  They were ready to sell, had several potential buyers, but all had fallen through for various reasons.  My mother was already taxed caring for my father and dealing with her own health crisis so I became the point person for the realtor and the lawyer.  In the hospital, I gave my father daily updates, letting him know about the various offers and the progress we were making.  I promised him we'd sell it, and that my mother would be okay.

My mother called me on my way to work this morning.  "It's done", she cried.  She's been stoic since my father's funeral, but this broke her.  "He should be here for this.  We would have popped some champagne, and celebrated.  This chapter of my life is closed."

The chapter opened forty-nine years ago, when my father, a hairdresser, was tired of commuting to his parents' salon in Manhattan.  He wanted a place of his own.  As recent homeowners with two little kids, my parents took a financial risk, purchased one of the model homes in the development, and transformed it into a beauty salon.  Growing up we all put in our time answering phones, folding towels (a penny a piece), or shampooing.  The salon dominated dinner conversations, sparked lifelong friendships and induced stressful fights.  It also gave my parents two defining experiences in their lives -- in the beginning it gave my father much needed independence from his parents, and in later years a way for my mother to thrive as a businesswoman.  A little building, filled with a lifetime of memories, is no longer just a little building.