No Longer Home but House

Thursday morning, I wade weeping
through rooms finally emptied
of treasures, clutter, and junk alike.
These tears hold oceans.
For months we have been slowly, diligently
unmaking this home—
our home and our parents’ home
for sixty-plus years.

Now at last laid bare of love, of life,
it is no longer home, but house.
Still for me the memories echo
all the more loudly in each empty room.
The salty spray on my cheeks becomes pools
as I float empty room to empty room,
scanning the floors and walls.

Again and again, I pause.
Through glistening eyes and a trembling voice
that tumbles into sobs, I splash words
to name the multitude of echoes
in each space: some heartbreak, so much joy.
These floors and walls shaped and held us
as we became a family.

My weeping is not sadness exactly.
Rather, it swells with the bittersweet
gratitude-grief-grace of whole tides of feelings.
Neither families nor homes happen by chance
but by choice after choice after choice.

This house gave us everything
we could have asked for
(well, everything except a second bathroom).
And we did the same, giving it ourselves.
Home and family blessing each other
across decades, until now the blessing is done.

If these walls could talk, I have no doubt
they would say, Thank you.
And here my own thanks pours out in tears,
which, as I say, hold oceans.

* * *

October 29, 2026
David R. Weiss

David Weiss is a theologian, writer, poet and hymnist, “writing into the whirlwind” of contemporary challenges, joys, and sorrows around climate crisis, sexuality, justice, peace, and family. Reach him at drw59mn@gmail.com. Read more at www.davidrweiss.com where he blogs under the theme, “Full Frontal Faith: Erring on the Edge of Honest.” Support him in Writing into the Whirlwind at www.patreon.com/fullfrontalfaith.