After the memorial we went back to K's. Drinks were had, and I was nominated to ask K if we could walk over to the house. I was nominated because it was decided I had the most sway.... meaning I said, "We're going now." And we did.
I know K didn't want to leave a house full of people, but going to Bruce's was a driving need for me--and for others. "We" being my core group of college friends: D&G, M, K, J, and BFF.
Was it weird? Yes. Was it difficult? Very. But I needed it. It was closure.
The furniture was the same, except when we sat on one of the love seats our butts almost touched the floor--they had seen better days. So had our knees. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and it was obvious no one lived there anymore. But it was still Bruce's. The same paintings. The same feel. As we walked through the house, we talked about memories. Like when BFF broke Bruce's bed (ahem) while house sitting. And how many glasses BFF broke (many). We talked about parties and dinners and conversations we had had in the house.
We moved to the dining room and kitchen and then into the music room. The music room was probably what had originally been the butler's pantry. The built-in shelves were stuffed with music. I know many were interested in Bruce's music collection--it was a pretty amazing. Off of the music room is a half-bath. Every single one of us went in there to see if the old All Things Considered poster was still in there. Back in the day, it was above the toilet. It was this old, worn out, probably fairly gross poster showing the orignal NPR folks from All Things Considered. And all of us remembered it vividly. Was it there? No.
As we were in the dining room, we began talking about graduation--which had been twenty years ago that week. We talked about the photo someone took of us in the gym as we were lining up in our caps and gowns. In the photo, I was in the middle and everyone surrounded me (since I am the shortest), with me holding J's leg up at my side (he was buck naked under his robe). At the moment of the conversation, J walked through the music room and asked, "Guys? This picture?" as he pointed at a corner shelf. I walked over and there it was--the snapshot that someone took was framed and in the music room.
I cried when I walked in the front door, but this is when I really lost it. This was Bruce's House. But it was also ours. And it was part of us. We were Bruce's family. And he was ours.
Bruce house will be sold. That was another reason for going over there--to see it one last time. To see it together. Not everyone agrees with the house being sold, but most have accepted it. While I am sad it will be sold, it's time. It would be weird for any of us to move in there--too many memories. And if anything was changed, there would be many hurt feelings. There was talk of turning it into the home of a non-profit to benefit LGBTQ kids, since Bruce took in so many LGBTQ kids who couldn't go home. And while all of us would be willing to serve on a board, the time and money needed to do it was more than any of us could spare. But it's time. It's time for the house to become someone else's home. It's time for another family.
I love that house. But what I love more is what I learned in that house, what I did in that house. I grew into an adult in that house. I learned about the world. Bruce introduced us to a world most of us had never experienced. The vast majority of us were history, philosophy, or English majors. Bruce's House is where we took everything that we learned in class and brought it back to our own lives--and Bruce facilitated this. As a friend said to me today, finding someone who can do that is rare. And to be part of that is lucky. I was lucky. Very lucky.
K told us all to choose something small from the House. People chose music CDs, glasses, mixing bowls.... I chose three sets of Matryoshka dolls. The summer of 1992 Bruce, K, and I travelled to Russia with a group from the university. Bruce bought them while we were there--and the handwritten price tags are still on the bottom. It was probably more than what most people took, but K grabbed them, handed them to me, and said, "I know. It reminds you of that trip."
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| My Matryoshkas |
Of course I promptly dropped them and BFF said, "This is why we don't let you have nice things." Man, I miss her.
The NPR poster? It had been claimed. I saw S, the person who grabbed it, at the airport--we were on the same flight. He was shocked so many people were interested in it (he grabbed it because he had worked at the local NPR station), but as someone at the house said, we all looked at it every time we went to into the bathroom to, you know, do our business.
As we were all leaving, I suggested one final picture on the front steps of the house. Looking at the few pictures that I took this weekend, these are the ones that are bittersweet. Because I was genuinely happy as we were leaving. I has happy knowing that Bruce is part of me. I was happy to know that I am taking part of the spirit of the house with me. It's time for the House to go to someone else. But, those pictures were the last time we will all be on those steps together.
This weekend was tough. But it was also great. Great because while so many times when I see my friends it usually feels like the end of some era: graduation, birthdays...something. And while we were all gathered to remember a great man, it didn't feel like the end of an era. To me it felt like a reaffirmation of what I am doing with my life. It was all of us coming together, fully grown, doing well and moving forward.
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