That Home And That Life Was Someone's Dream

His name is not Ben Brown, nor is he from Texas, but that's how he introduced himself. "Hey there, I'm Ben Brown from Texas."  It's an old joke, and a great set up to tell it. His name is Ben Williams, from Florida/Alabama. Born on Government Street in downtown Pensacola, in a little shotgun house just blocks east of historic Seville Square, but he lived almost half his life on Perdido Bay, in Lillian, Alabama. Gentle Ben, as other's called him, loved to make people laugh and smile.  As you can see, he LOVED his firstborn and only baby boy.  Ben was handsome and full of dreams that he made come true.

At 89, Ben passed away peacefully, at home, on Perdido Bay.  Left behind is his home, built in Lillian in the 1960s.  Also left behind are some scattered pilings of a pier he once built that a hurricane dismantled for him; an aging, well-used motorhome; six large storage sheds full of treasures and memories;  two beloved dogs; three cats; a forest full of raccoons he loved to feed;  and all of his wife's personal and household treasures he couldn't bare to part with after she passed. Daddy wanted his house, his dogs, cats and many of his treasures to stay in the family. He wanted the pier rebuilt for the great grandchildren to enjoy, just as his children did. He wanted his dreams to live on for his family.

When our loved ones pass, what do we do with a lifetime of treasures and dreams? Some families have neither the time, health, money or perhaps not even the desire to tackle such a project.  

For some, it's easy. Sell the house. Give treasures to family members who want them and sell the rest. Give the dogs and cats to good homes.  Let the raccoons fend for themselves, as raccoons do. Let the new owners worry about the overgrown property and pier. Move forward, building your own dreams.

Others are polarized by not yet wanting to let go of their parents, or disrespect their memory, or go against their wishes  by giving away or selling the things they so loved.  It feels like casting our loved ones off the float along with their treasures as our own parade of dreams roll on without them, leaving them behind. This is exactly how I feel. Yet, circumstances require a compromise. This is where my heart, mind and all my energy has been these past few months since Ben passed. I'm Ben Brown From Texas' daughter. As my brother has put all his energy into remodeling the house and getting things sold, my husband and I have been going through storage sheds full of treasures,  thousands of photographs, mountains of documents dating back to 1967, and settling all his business affairs, trying to preserve what we can and let go of the rest.

Here's the hitch for us. It all has to be done now, while my brother is still somewhat able. In those moments Daddy was dying peacefully at home, surrounded by his only daughter's family, his beloved only son was at the doctor being told he had brain cancer, Glioblastoma. It's an aggressive killer. He was given eighteen months, at the most, to live. He's sixty-eight with a child and grandchildren of his own. We were only grateful Daddy passed before his mortal body had to endure the heartbreak.

I can't know what my children will be facing in their own lives at the time I pass. I'm sixty-five. Both my parents are deceased. My only sibling is facing his own mortality.  It's time to evaluate what I want to leave behind for my children to deal with. Time to manage my own dreams. Time to finish what I want to and have some closure with others. Whether it's real or personal property, I have choices. Whatever it is, I  can keep it, restore it, sell it, give it away or trash it, and not leave it for my children to do.

It was Daddy's sense of humor and his gentle goodness that I treasure most. Ambition and tenacity are the things I most admire in Mother. We have all inherited these things to one degree or another. Those things will live on. When I look at this picture of  Daddy holding my brother close, with such love, I know, without a doubt, that the things Daddy thought he wanted done with his things mean nothing now. How could he have imagined his son would soon follow him? He would want only what is best for his son. That thought brings peace to my heart. We still feed the raccoons, we will rebuild the pier, and some of his dreams have become our own, but letting go of so much of his things and moving forward, with a cheerful heart and no guilt came easier than I thought.

On the Beach, Up a Hill, and Under the Oaks

The sun coming up on Perdido Bay

Dear Reader,

Oak trees on the beach? Not your picture-postcard-perfect image of the Gulf Coast, hmm?  It's complicated.

My home is on the waterfront. Perdido Bay. Lucky me! It sets on a gentle rise, under big beautiful oak trees! Lucky me, again, right?! This place that my "Nana"  called "Magnolia Gardens" (Yes Magnolia trees grow along the bay too) has been our family port and anchor for sixty years. No matter where we go or how long we are gone, it has always been our family home. It's the place where even Nana's great great grandchildren know they are home.  It's the place of family and stories.  Thrilling stories of pirates, alligators, dolphins, sharks, sea creatures, ghosts, swamp things, hurricanes, building, business, buried treasure, fine furniture, antiques, china and church all take their place in the history of our home and family.

The driveway to my house on Perdido Bay

Choosing this place on Perdido Bay was one of the wisest decisions my grandmother, "Nana",  ever made for our family, way back when my hair was in little blond pigtails, before it went brown, then gray, then back blond again.  As I walk to the beach through the woods of my home, or just look out my window, I see "Nana" and  "PawPaw" everywhere. She chose the land and built the house. He planted all the Camellias that bloom and brighten our Winter. Yet, I inherited so much more than this pretty little spot on earth. They left me a wealthy woman, rich with the treasure of a wonderful life.

The decisions we make, every day, affect our children for the rest of their lives, their children's lives, and their grandchildren's lives. Our work ethic, integrity, kindness, generosity and a million other qualities we choose for ourselves every day teach our children something - one way or another. They pass them on to generations that follow. Like choosing the setting and soil on which to build a house and make it beautiful, all the choices we make create an environment and family culture that our children can thrive in and always come back to, if just to remember who they are.

So today, as I walk south, barefoot, in the tan colored sand along Perdido Bay, the morning sun reflects off of the condominiums stretching across the Key and Orange Beach, and I am reminded that none of those existed when I was a girl.  That beautiful white Gulf beach seemed like my personal sandbox, back then,  and I used to wish my  home was right there  next to the emerald green Gulf water with my "Granny" who lived there, instead of on the Bay with ny"Nana." That strip of beach, just a few minutes down stream, is still a great, and exciting place to live.  How grateful I am now, however, that I live here on Perdido Bay, where I can have a boat dock and enjoy the best of both worlds, better protected from high wind and high water events, and shaded in the Summer by the giant oaks and spanish moss that drip with charm. Life is layered and full of rich texture here along the Gulf Coast.  Life IS more than a beach. It's a whole lot of wonder, adventure of many other things that go with it!

Thanks for reading!
"Rae"


AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Perdido is a Spanish word that means "lost." So Perdido Bay means  "Lost Bay." Yes, there is a story that goes with that name. Are you kidding me? We got a story for everything! And everything has a name!