A Farm Full of Memories

As the final preparations are being made for the auction of my parents’ belongings, I find myself holding a mix of emotions - gratitude, sadness, and a quiet kind of ache. This is the right thing for the right reason, but it sure doesn’t feel easy.

This isn’t just about furniture and dishes. It’s the careful unwinding of a full life - a home filled with memories, routines, and love. Every lamp, every cookbook, every faded receipt carries a story. Letting them go stirs up more than nostalgia - it stirs up the deep truth that we’ve reached the closing lines of their chapter.

Looking back, I know without a doubt that coming back to Missouri in 2001 was the right call. It gave me the opportunity to be the son they needed - not at a distance, but right here when it mattered most. And I didn’t walk that road alone.

My wife walked every step of it with me. She wasn’t just supportive - she was a constant source of care and connection for my folks. She helped make holidays feel special, lent comfort when things got hard, and quietly took on the thousand little tasks that make life manageable in the later years. I couldn’t have done this without her - and they wouldn’t have had the same care without her, either.

Because we were here, we got to celebrate. Birthdays, anniversaries, Mother’s Days, Father’s Days - all the little markers of time that become so much more precious in hindsight. Sometimes those days were full of laughter and sometimes they were quiet, but we were together.

A great gift to come out of those years was the CD made of Dad’s music. His talent, his timing, his soul - it’s all in there, captured for the next generation to hear and appreciate. For us to play when the urge hits. That’s a legacy no auction can take away.

And when the time came to say goodbye, we were able to do it right. We were present. Not flying in, not calling from afar. We were here. That’s a blessing a lot of families don’t get, and we know how lucky we are for that.

Now we’re letting go of the physical things. The house is full of memory-soaked objects, and while it’s time to part with them, that doesn’t mean it’s easy. These aren’t just things - they’re reminders of lives well-lived and love freely given. Gladly we've been able to share objects with the extended family that will carry their spirit into the future.

Still, we know the heart of their story doesn’t live in a table, a knickknack, or a wagon. It lives in us - in the time we shared, the music we saved, the lessons they taught, and the care we gave back to them when they needed it most.

So yes, this is hard. But it’s also right. And it’s a tribute to two lives that meant the world to us.