It Doesn't Matter, Does It?

After Mom died, we made the decision to sell the house, fearing at first that it would be out of necessity to pay her medical bills, but finally just to close the door on that part of our lives which had held so many bad memories.

"MY HOUSE! MY HOUSE!" she would sob when she walked into the kitchen after being away for a few days at the hospital or at Greta's house.

"YOU WILL NEVER TAKE AWAY THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN MY LIFE~~MY HOUSE AND ALL MY THINGS!" she screamed at Dad after their first meeting with Hospice when he was struggling with mesothelioma.

"SELL THIS HOUSE?  NEVER!  ONLY IF I WOULD BE MOVING TO A BIGGER HOUSE WHICH I NEED TO HOLD ALL OF  MY THINGS!" she responded to us when we suggested that downsizing, finding a place on one floor with yard care and snow removal might be a good idea after Dad died.

The house became like a dungeon.  She kept the drapes drawn, the blinds shut, and taped a black plastic trash bag over the front door window so no one could peek in.

The house was cluttered with her 'things' and papers and envelopes, and stacks of magazines and newspapers.

It was impossible to walk through the house without hitting cobwebs or dustballs or running into spiders.

As we cleaned out the house this past summer, it was obvious that the house needed work, that the kitchen and the bathroom needs updates, and that new paint, pulling up the carpet, and changing window treatments would add to the value.

Could we do that?  No.  Gary and I have a house in Indiana.  We have family in Indiana.  Our grandchildren live in Indiana.  The house in Wooster is 5-6 hours east of us.  Updating the house, painting, ripping out the kitchen and bathroom and renovating them, tearing up the carpet and refinishing the hardwood floors would require more work and more time than we could commit to the project. Plus the cost of hotel rooms and meals out would be high.  Add to that not knowing who to call for help or where the best place to buy supplies would be...after all, we don't have a Mike Finnegan or Jeff Tanner in Wooster (that we know of, anyway).  Too much to even contemplate.

So we sell.  We hope that a family will embrace the house and want to remodel it to fit them and their lifestyle and enjoy the neighborhood, the house itself, and make lots of memories there.

We thought that was what happened.

But last week the house was listed for sale, by owner.

The kitchen was ripped apart and renovated.

All of the walls had been painted.

The carpet had been ripped up and the hardwood floors in the living room, all three bedrooms, and the hall were beautiful.

The bathroom was renovated.

The basement was carpeted, at least where Dad's office area had been.

It looks great.

But it made me sad.

The 'family' that bought the house wasn't really a family, but a woman with two children and her boyfriend who was also her boss (she is a waitress at the restaurant he owns).   Her daughter was so excited about living there, going to school with Alyssa and Faith next door, and having a home.

But that wasn't the intention, evidently.  They never did move in.  They worked on the house.  Improvements were made. Now they are selling it.

It doesn't matter.  But I feel like what we didn't want to happen - someone buying it, then flipping it---has happened.

Yes, I know.  Once we sell it, it is out of our hands.  They can do with it what they want.

Yes, I know.   We couldn't renovate it ourselves. Gary and I just didn't have the time or the energy to do that from this distance.  We had to sell it.  Greta and Kent had no desire or a plan to renovate, then sell.

Yes, I know.  We set a base price for it and that is what we sold it for.

So it doesn't matter, does it?

Maybe a family will buy it who is really serious about living there, their children going to school with Alyssa and Faith, and making a home full of memories.  Really serious about doing that. Not like the people who did buy it.

Or maybe things changed with the current owners.  Maybe their relationship changed.  Maybe they decided that they wanted a place with more acreage.  Who knows what the reason was.

Does it matter?  Not really.  But it does make me a little sad.