WHEN THE DOOR TO THE GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE CLOSES
One of the saddest moments in our lives occurs when the door to our grandparents' house closes forever.
Once that door is shut, the vibrant afternoons filled with aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, parents, brothers, and sisters become mere memories.
There was no need for Sunday outings to restaurants; our destination was always our grandparents' house.
During Christmas, Grandma would fill the air with the tantalizing aroma of her frying, while Grandpa meticulously tended to the roast, inevitably coaxing the chimney into releasing wisps of smoke.
The table stretched endlessly, adorned in the grandest room.
Now, the house stands shuttered, enveloped in silence and dust.
No takers emerge for that cherished house. It may be old, in need of renovation, or too costly, and the whole building will be brought down, but what value can truly be placed on the sanctuary of our grandparents' home?
Its worth is immeasurable.
And so the years drift by.
Grandparents serve as the linchpins of our family, repositories of wisdom and fortitude.
No longer are there gifts to unwrap, omelets to savor, or vegetables to tenderly clean.
Yet, in the hearts of our grandparents, we forever remain as innocent and cherished as in childhood.
Grandparents unfailingly brewed coffee, and served pasta, wine, and sweets, until, all too soon, those moments ceased.
Songs fade into silence, and the aroma of homemade pasta dissipates into memory.
No longer will Grandma fry potatoes, and I will no longer stealthily steal them from the oven.
The table stretched endlessly, adorned in the grandest room.
Your departure came too swiftly, leaving an ache in my heart.
I longed to craft the sauce once more, to relish the time together, engage in heart-to-heart conversations, and drink Vermouth.
I yearned to stack firewood with you again, Grandpa; thank you for imparting that skill.
Thank you for the lessons in life, the tales of the countryside, and the secrets of gardening.
Now, as I pass by, habit compels me to park and press the doorbell, half-expecting Grandma's reprimand.
Forgive me, Grandma.
I shall ring the doorbell no more.
Instead, in moments such as these, I'll hum a tune—a melody beloved by Grandpa, a testament to boundless affection.
Grandparents are the cornerstone of the family, embodying wisdom and resilience in the face of life's challenges.
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