Whenever I talk to the rest of my family about the house you lived in with Nana, I always say Nana and Pop Pop's House. That's what it is.
Now it's just Nana's House.
I didn't remember that the other day and I said it in front of Nana. I think she was about to cry.
It's so hard to think that the house I visited every Sunday growing up isn't the same anymore.
You won't be on the back patio grilling steaks anymore, or in the living room chair watching golf.
It hurts, I guess. It hurts to think about it, at least.
Nana doesn't want to leave that house. It's too big for her. She doesn't need a four bedroom house.
But I think she feels that if she moves out of the house, she'll be leaving you behind. I understand that. I wouldn't want to leave you behind, either.
