Dad died. Over the following year, there was a void in the family that it seemed could never be filled. He was too young to have just died; at 55 he was strong and in great health. One minute he was here, the next he was gone.
Mom kept the big house up and told us that she would never move out. Dad had bought a house when he was young, before he and mom married. Over the next years, he built a front to the house that was amazing.
It was like he put a house in front of a house. The back house was red brick and traditional. The new front was built like a rustic ranch, with a huge living room. There was a big stone fireplace and stone floor. It had high ceilings and big wooden beams across the walls and ceiling.
Dad had bolted iron rings onto the beams, and mom would change the look of the rooms by running cloth and ribbons through the rings, hanging ornaments from each that reflected the holiday or season.
Red and white cloth and big hearts celebrated the coming of Valentine's Day, bright pastels and eggs were for Easter, and in the summer, plants would be hanging from every ring, thriving in the bright light from the 4 large skylights. The room was festive and lively. It always felt like home.
The bedroom was built the same way. A large king size bed was big enough for all 4 of us kids to cuddle with our parents, even into our teens. We had movie night sleepovers from time to time, all in their bed watching the big television, munching on snacks.
There were a lot of good memories in the house, but none better than the kitchen. Since the new front had the living room and master bedroom and bath, dad extended the kitchen in the main house.
There was a big butcher block table and cooking island, a big heavy round table with 8 chairs, and it was open and airy. The island was a counter on the other side, with stools along the front. Most breakfasts and lunches were at the counter, most dinners at the table.
Beyond the kitchen, dad had a study, and behind these, there were 3 bedrooms and a large bath. Dad had remodeled every room by himself, and the house was amazing. Dad did the building, mom did the decorating, and the team effort worked.
Dad finished the basement, and one end held a laundry room. The other end was a large storage room. The center was a gym on one side, a play area on the other and a family room in the middle. A large couch, 2 big armchairs and 2 love seats gave full view of the large television, no matter where you sat.
In many ways, we all thought dad was an amazing man, not just for his building skills, but for his demeanor. He made good decisions, dispensed the best advice, and taught us to grow into confident, prepared adults. None of us ever got into any serious trouble, but when we broke the rules, dad dispensed a firm justice.
Our street was bypassed when an adjoining road was expanded. As people moved away, dad bought the abandoned properties, until our street was owned by him, and became a dead end dirt lane. We were in the city, but isolated. Our friends were always surprised when they saw our house. We had country living 500 yards from a big town, surrounded by trees and gardens.
Dad wasn't rich, he just had good financial judgement. He had bought good insurance and had locked in a tax rate by taking over the maintenance of the street. Other much smaller houses and properties paid 4 to 5 times the taxes of our rate. Dad had also made a monthly payment to 2 local colleges, and by the time us 4 kids were ready to attend, we were in a position where all 4 could afford to attend without ever taking out a loan, or 2 of us could attend for 4 years without ever paying a dime for anything, including books.
He had owned a large store in the center of town, and we sold it not long after he died. Between the sale, insurance and dad's financial planning, mom, at just 45, could spend $2,000 every week for the rest of her life and never run out of money, even if she lived to be 100.
All 4 kids were out of the house. My older sister, Jennifer, had went from intern at the local radio station to producer to talk show host in 6 years. She was a local celebrity, and had recently signed to do features at the local television station. She had a good contract, she was financially secure for the next 5 years, and had a small house midway between the 2 stations.
Jenn was a pretty girl. She was 26, blonde, slim but curvy. She had big natural breasts and a nice ass. She wasn't that tall at 5', 6", but always wore heels, so she was eye to eye with most of her male counterparts. She worked out at least 3 days a week, and walked or ran nearly every morning.
Her private life was social, but unremarkable. She had steady boyfriends here and there, but never took that next step to living with any or professing undying love. That wasn't unusual for any of us. Dad had coached each of us carefully about relationships.
He taught us his own philosophy about life and love and each of us were open and honest and avoided typical pitfalls of relationships. I wondered if Jenn was actually looking for someone that measured up to dad, or if she was just gay and being careful about hiding it.
I was next in line, 24 on my last birthday, and happy. I had gone from stock boy at 18 to manager at 20 to owning my own franchise at 22. I was preparing to open a second franchise location. Life was good. I dated a girl for 3 years and recently became single. It was a good time, but in the end, she wanted to move forward, and I didn't.
I had a ranch style house, not far from Jenn. My girl and I had never lived together, so there was no long drama in ending things. She went her way and I went mine. I thought things over and decided to rent out my house and move back in with mom.
Heidi was 21, in her third year of college just outside of town. She lived in the dorms and thrived in the atmosphere. She made good grades and played soccer for the college team. She dated, but nothing seriously or exclusively. She was tanned and tight, a small lean body on muscular legs. She had light brown long hair and was a free spirit, planning on traveling after graduation.
Jackie was the middle sister, attending a college on the opposite side of town. She lived in an apartment with 2 other girls and worked part time off campus. She was the girly girl of the family, always in a dress or skirt, a cheerleader, always being chased by the boys.
Jackie avoided getting caught up in relationship drama by avoiding it. She dated in groups and kept busy with activities and never slowed down long enough to get caught by any one guy. A rumor circulated through the family that she was dating a black man and keeping it quiet. Another rumor was that her boyfriend was married.
We were all close enough to visit mom, and each of us came home every week. It wasn't often that even 2 of us were there at the same time, but mom was never alone for long. Still, she was living alone in a big house, and I wasn't too happy about that fact. I knew that she missed dad, and she had no interest in seeing anyone, even a year after dad was gone.
Mom looked great and was in good shape. She walked every day, either outside or on the treadmill in the basement. She would pop in a dvd and spend an hour walking through Rome or Paris or London. She was small at about 5', 5", and always wore tennis shoes or sandals. She had full breasts and a nice ass, with toned legs and no flab, even though she had a little of that mom belly that had never gone away.
More than once, I caught sight of her and one of my sisters in a weepy embrace. I knew it was the absence of dad that brought out their emotions. He spent considerable time with each girl every day. Once they hit 18, he took each one into his embrace, guiding them into adulthood.
I talked my plans over with mom and my sisters, and everyone agreed it would be a good idea. I offered to pay at least half of the bills, but mom flatly refused. Mom had no use for the back of the house, so I was free to rearrange it any way I wanted. It was rare that any of us spent the night, so I took over the back master bedroom that Jackie and Heidi had shared.
I moved their beds and personal things into my old room and set up my new bedroom. Things I did not want to leave in my house I moved into the basement family room, and over the next week or so, I moved things around to my liking. Mom and the girls had searched through the house several times, and had sold off or donated a lot of dad's things.
The storage closet was a different matter. One side was neatly stacked and labeled, mom's treasures for her holiday decorating. It was wall to wall and floor to ceiling storage boxes, each packed with great care and clearly marked with the holiday or season and the contents. The other side was obviously dad's stuff.
