My grandparents house has finally been sold and is going to be demolished in the coming months for a development on the land. Mum and dad went to have one last look and to see if there was anything else they wanted before that happened.
We went along with them, for a squiz and also so Douglas could help dad remove the awning that was over the back door, which mum plans to hang over her she shed entry way.
Oh my word. What a bloody mess. Turns out the Real Estate agent had not conducted an inspection for many many years and the house and the yard and basically everywhere was trashed. The carpets looked like someone had dragged a car engine over them, there was a hole in the wall in one of the bedrooms, flyscreens completely gone on lots of the windows, the bathroom window was broken and couldn't close... down that side of the house looked like a garbage tip, and I just cannot believe that someone would take their job so completely not seriously and have that to their name. It was ridiculous.
It was truly sad seeing my grandparents house like that for the last time, but it really doesn't matter. Obviously if they were still here, it wouldn't be that way! The backyard is completely overgrown too and I feel really sad to think of how lovely it was. All neat and tidy, the Hills Hoist ready to swing on, and our little metal tricycle with the back seat for a passenger, being ridden up and down the garden path. That backyard seemed to go on forever when I was a child. There was always something to do and look at, before coming back to the safety of my grandparents.
The doors for the wood sheds down the side of the backyard were wide open, from my brothers and dad collecting things that they wanted to keep. They have always been closed and not accessible by any of the tenants. I remember that was where I would always find my grandfather, in there working away at something. Rockinghorses, stools (believe me, they are indestructible. Mine is still going strong 30 something years later.) and sling shots made from Y branches in a tree. I remember walking around the farm at my parents with him once and him keeping a well trained eye out for any he could take home and fashion into another one for his grandkids and the kids he liked at church.
His old almond tree still stood strong and immovable after all these years, now strung with fairy lights with a long abandoned table underneath.
It was when I walked through this door however that I was taken back to my childhood. This room, seemingly untouched since then (although it obviously was... he died after Doug and I were married) which still smelled exactly the same to me. I felt a rush of emotions and teared up, remembering all my innocent childhood conversations with one of the people who has meant the most to me. I would give so much for another hour with that man, just one more hug.
I loved seeing this little good luck spot on the cupboard door, complete with a lucky penny and horseshoe and his painting.
A bunch of little sea creatures, so appropriate for Fremantle.
I loved this place, his home, so very much.
So these photos are to remind me, in years to come, that he was here. That he was wonderful and that I have wonderful memories of a childhood spent being so loved by my grandparents.
My grandma used to try and get me to nap when I was a small child and she would watch me very occasionally, and cover me with one of her crocheted rugs (there was so many, made with love and gifted to her grandkids - I still have mine!), on their big bed. They had a large wooden wardrobe and I remember my grandfather always having musk lifesavers stashed away and sneaking us into the bedroom to give us one. I will also never forget, the day of my grandmothers funeral, as a small girl, coming into his room and seeing him cry. My little six year old self, telling him it would be alright and giving him a hug. Who even knows if it happened that way, but that's how I remember it.
I remember sitting on the back step with him in his flannel hat. Pushing the brim up and down and letting the sun shine into his piercing blue eyes as he made faces to make me giggle.
I spent a moment admiring this wall and asked my dad about it when he came in. Apparently grandads signature move was to use the dregs of his paint tins to colour the wall bit by bit and all these years later, it's made a gorgeous picture.
I told mum a few years ago, one time I wandered in and he was busily making a stool, with the name JADE carved on the front. I asked if it was for me and he assured me it was for another little girl called Jade. Not long after for a birthday or Christmas (both the same when you are me! haha) it appeared. It's the one mentioned above, painted light pink and being loved and used daily still as a step in my pantry.
Even back then, you had to carefully go into the second shed and duck around the piles of wood. I am sure he used every piece he could, but there's still enough for a lifetime and then some.
As one last point of entertainment, my grandmother let me help her with the vacuuming once when I was very small. I pushed the machine over the rug in the lounge room, pushing the fibres in the wrong direction and making it look all askew. I was so upset and was kneeling on the ground trying desperately to push them back into place when she found me a few minutes later, she had a good laugh and assured me that there was nothing damaged.
Farewell little house. You were so very loved by everyone who entered in.
Many, many years ago my mother cross stitched a small sampler which used to hang by my grandparents front door. I have it now and it's hung in my Nollamara house, this house and will hang again in my new home.
Bless this house Oh Lord we pray.
Keep it safe both night and day.
Bless each corner brick and rafter.
Keep it filled with love and laughter.
There was so much love and laughter in this precious home. I am so grateful to have been blessed with a grandparents who had so much love to give. ❤
