I've written before about my parents, and the house my Dad designed and built shortly after WWII in farmland west of Chicago.
I've also written about the seven years I spent caring for my Mom after my Dad died, the last five of those as her full time live in caregiver.
The day after tomorrow, Thursday, July 31st, I will witness the house auctioned off to strangers.
My Mom was able to remain in the house to the amazing age of 96, passing away three years ago this past Sunday, thanks in part to my care but also to establishing a reverse mortgage line of credit. This was used for medical co-payments, OTC medications, salves, diapers, etc., as well as necessary repairs to the house, such as plumbing, heating, washing machine replacement, etc.
Thanks to the housing collapse, the house is worth a bit more than half what it was when the line of credit was established, and considerably less than the lien that now exists on the house.
I have two older sisters, one of whom lives in the area, and is poor like me (medical conditions limit me to less than 40 hours of work a week,) and another who lives hundreds of miles away, and is quite wealthy, as are her two daughters (one of whom makes seven figures a year.)
Banks understandably don't want to write mortgages for more than a house is worth (not any more they don't, at least,) and the only people in a position to help (my southern relatives) have chosen not to.
It is breaking my heart to lose what is far more than a material possession, but is in fact a tangible reminder of my parents, made all the more strong because my father put his very soul into the house. He always bristled when folks said "We're building a house..." or "We're going to build a house..." because my Dad actually built his family's house. Heck, he even dug the foundation by hand. For a man who grew up in Bucktown in Chicago (long before it was gentrified) and dropped out of school after 10th grade to support his parents and younger brother during the Great Depression, a home on an acre of land was heaven to him.
Losing this house, seeing it taken over by strangers, feels like my folks are dying all over again. Worse, it feels like somebody is killing them.
So, before the house is taken, I'd like to post this video I made as a Christmas present for my folks some years ago.