Growing up in Brooklyn my family moved a couple of times. With those moves always came some emotions and questions. As my family and I closed the door behind us with each of those moves, we would always wonder what the new place would be like. And like other families, we had our good and bad times in each new place. For me personally the last neighborhood I lived in in Brooklyn was Bay Ridge. That is where I lived when I met my husband and moved from Brooklyn to Upstate New York.
A couple of years after I got married my parents had to move from their two-family house to an apartment building. And I can honestly tell you when I heard they had to move I remember being upset. I didn’t like them moving again, especially into an apartment building. And to be honest with you I’m not completely sure why I was so upset. I didn’t like the idea of my parents living in an apartment. There is absolutely nothing wrong with people living in an apartment building. I know other people who lived in one. I’ve been to their apartments and they always looked nice, but the idea of my parents moving into one just didn’t sit well with me. Maybe it’s because I wanted my kids to be able to have space to walk around like I did. Or maybe it’s because two-family homes were all I knew growing up.
And this is where we get to the doors of 81st and 3rd Ave, the last place my parents will live in Brooklyn. This is the apartment my children would call Nana and Papa’s place. This is the apartment where my husband, my children and I would spend weekends with my parents when we would visit them in Brooklyn. That elevator door would get used by us with each and every visit. That apartment on 81st and 3rd Ave is where my dad would let my children play his drums. That apartment as much as I didn’t like it for whatever reason had it’s own share of good and bad times with my family.
Ten years ago my mom walked out of that apartment for the last time never to return to it. Ten years ago she went from that apartment to the hospital and after 2 months of being sick in that hospital, she passed away. Two months ago my dad, who is suffering from dementia, left his apartment with us and closed his door for the last time not even understanding that it was his last time in his apartment. Last week was a difficult time for me. Last Thursday my husband and I spent the last couple of hours in that apartment waiting for the movers to move some of my parent’s stuff to my house. Last Thursday we closed the door to Apartment B7 on 81st for the last time. As much as I never cared much for that place it was still a very emotional time. It meant no more reasons to visit Brooklyn. It meant none of my family was in Brooklyn anymore. It meant an end to an era for my family for my parents and that was very painful to deal with. Closing the doors for the last time in Brooklyn was a very difficult and very emotional experience. It had to be done, but that didn’t make it any easier. If anything it was more of a reminder of losing my mom 10 years ago. Watching my dad slowly decline and remembering watching my kids having fun with their grandparents in that place.
Kathleen Smith author of Miscarriages My Story, Brooklyn Raised Livin’ Upstate & Hey You Moments to Remember. Blogs about a variety of things. Has her own podcast Kathleen’s Korner and she is the CEO of BearsWithApps. OH, let’s not forget her YouTube channel