For Sale_ This Old House

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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sun Aug 30, 2015 12:12 am

Then there would be the trains of the future_ the trains of returns to the old house of my father, to break the silence of the walls.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sun Aug 30, 2015 3:36 am

The old house of my father, the habitat of our family generations ...

For sale, this old house....now sold.

There would be new families making my old house theirs.

Was I really ready to again cross the threshold of the door of this old house? A repository of secretive emotions I had kept locked in my heart after the passing of my mother who had loved it so much, cried rivers of tears when ripped away from it by life_ At the top of the stairs, before she crossed into the unknown_when all was now vacant, she had struck me as the last solitary inhabitant...who would always be there.

Ever since that moment in the years to come_ in that emotional void_ I both loved and feared many a phantom moments of experiences there as a child...there are moments in life that seem like illusions. They come and go as quickly as flashes of lightning and you are left wondering if they ever truly existed.

Now I felt a calling with a sense of urgency.

And so my last train stop is back to my old town...from the railway into the station I could see the rear of the house.

It will be a punishing trip into the past...many a sleeping shadows to be re-awakened.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sun Aug 30, 2015 4:01 am

Turning the corner into the courtyard before my old house_ she looks on in austerity, the walls faded, a few cracks...

Many times when I returned home late at night I would find my mother seated on her rocking chair
in the dark, on the covered back porch overlooking the railroad station. "Ma why aren't you in bed? It is late and getting cold.

She would look at me and without answer...her face reflective of a veiled sadness and sorrows I knew she willingly kept quiet so as not to be of burden...reflective of what appeared might be terrible things to come in our lives.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sun Aug 30, 2015 3:28 pm

The forecourt running the entire length of the house, where as a child I had spent most of my free time practicing soccer drills_ now in abandon_

I look at the doors of abandoned apartments on the ground floor abutting the courtyard_ once storage areas for a variety of tools and also of a coach my ancestors had used for promenading the seashore, one street over.

Having had no more use for these storage spaces, they had been sold and had been turned into ground floor habitats.

The doors...all closed shut...by death...one by one...vacating those old living spaces_ which fell into abandon adding desolation to desolation, as the train I had seen in the station on the way inImage

I climb the old stairs ravaged by time...and reach the front entrance door.

I glance to the right to the now rusted iron gate that opens on decrepit stairs down to the wall of the railway and the once beautiful garden that was once my beloved outdoor playground with many family gatherings and open air banquets with friends, always well cured by my parents and full of fragrant flowers.

Now grass so tall to raise fears of some slithering lizard...having invaded every passageway...suffocating small trees of weak branches...a quick glance to not cry the childhood memories of a once very idyllic 'garden of Eden' _
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Tue Sep 01, 2015 4:04 pm

A bit tired...but maybe natural...I have tackled the descent into the abyss of my memories.

Strangely the massive front entrance door opens easily with a slight nudge. I quickly make my way to my old bedroom door but do not enter. Maybe because from the outside down below, its walls and in particular its large window_ have already spoken. Let's not disturb at this time.

I instead push wide open the door to my parents' bedroom still intact.

One sure sign of abandonment, a white sheet instead of the fancy bedspread I remembered.

I loved my parents' bedroom ...
always resplendent in the reddish color of cherry wood furniture, the matrimonial bed so soft and comfortable, the place where I was born in all its untold mysteries...and the place where as a child I was once monitored 24 hours a day because of a sickness usually fatal in those days without antibiotics.

Were my parents really happy together once? They weren't destined to remain together long.

My mother's heart , even in her old age, had remained unfathomable.

I know that my old house will continue to live on with the old family ghosts in residence always and in wait for those 'of family' to return.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Tue Sep 01, 2015 6:32 pm

Next stop_ our big kitchen, dining room, playroom and two attics...the seat of happiness, mysteries, fights and passionate moments.

I will again stand by the side window looking at the railroad to see and hear the rumbling trains depart and arrive...

And I will seat in my mother's old rocking chair _recounting without fear my life full of mistakes and learn to talk, listen and forgive ...and to finally break the silence of the walls of this old house.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Wed Sep 02, 2015 4:37 am

I would beseech the walls of my parents' bedroom to allow the return into the renovation_ of my mother and father and to bestow upon them the gift of tolerance _ compassion and reconciliation...
so that this old house _ at times cursed_ will become blessed, hallowed and honored ...an old house with its ancient walls of stones newly hugged and loved.Image
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Mon Sep 14, 2015 3:10 am

And the return, after so much time, in my beloved old house where I had lived as a child, now in a state of abandon, arouses melancholy and sadness_ childhood memories live together with the expressions of the dear people who are no longer there_ the games and the parties in the radio room, the lived joys, the sorrows, the pains, cross and parade as images of a movie filmed before my eyes_ and all happening at once.

And it is through the remembrance of childhood that the past can be made to return and become the present...allowing the reconciliation between what we have been and _of what life necessarily imposed of becoming.

Time and death have left an impenetrable sorrowful mourning. Remembering those affections means to render them of presence, to make them persist as long shadows, and to encase their voices into a unique one, the very own.

They are feeble voices, elusive presences, but at once doubtless _surfacing from an unfathomable depth_ leaving inevitable tracks, bringing long gone family members back to life and their own world into this sacred space still belonging to them.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Mon Sep 14, 2015 3:49 am

The realization of almost an impossibility of sharing happiness with a mother in daily severe sadness after having been abandoned by the paternal figure.

Hanging from the wall, an antique beautiful clock that now chimes in frail sounds...
brings to mind my happiness of adolescence, and on the approach of the entrance stairway, the distinct sounds of dear voices, the smells of dinner being prepared_and the family calling, the scents of home, would combine to become a place of perfect happiness, of reconciliation, and affection.

And the awareness that my old ancestral house and my old town, are places of the heart that will never hold you in loneliness_

The knowledge that in the family, in the people of the town, in the friends_ in the trees and plants, in the earth_ there is something of yours, that even when you are not there_ all remains in wait for your return...especially the old chestnut tree of my garden.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu Dec 17, 2015 8:21 pm

A Father’s Goodbye
By Jerry Dreesen
“Come, it’s over,” she said.
“We must leave now.”
Slowly, tenderly, she touched my shoulder.
“There is nothing left to do.”
No. There is nothing left to do.
I cannot hope or wish…or cry any longer.
He is gone.
The eulogy has been given.
Friends expressed their grief.
Some embarrassed at their awkwardness,
others unable to speak of such a loss,
have left.
I cannot leave my son – not yet.
I have watched him suffer,
now let me watch him rest.


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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pk-SLQPYJ0
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Fri Jan 01, 2016 7:02 am

:cry: Image
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sun Jan 24, 2016 10:33 pm

And we all nodded at him: the man of finance, the man of accounts, the man of law, we all nodded at him over the polished table that like a still sheet of brown water reflected our faces, lined, wrinkled; our faces marked by toil, by deceptions, by success, by love; our weary eyes looking still, looking always, looking anxiously for something out of life, that while it is expected is already gone – has passed unseen, in a sigh, in a flash – together with the youth, with the strength, with the romance of illusions.


― Joseph Conrad
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu Jan 28, 2016 7:10 am

“Droll thing life is -- that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself -- that comes too late -- a crop of inextinguishable regrets.”

― Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu Jan 28, 2016 7:12 am

“Even extreme grief may ultimately vent
itself in violence--but more generally takes the form of apathy”

― Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Fri Jan 29, 2016 12:29 am

ImageImageImage
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