Kami and Krissi started school in August, 2006, and the house still had not sold. Dad got fed up with the Real Estate Agent, who didn't seem to be pushing very hard to sell the house. Eventually he lowered the price again and decided to sell the house himself. Once in awhile someone would come by to look things over, but no one was really interested. Even though they would be getting a smoking good deal; two acres of prime Gilbert property and a 4,500 square-foot home for less than the price of bare land in our area, $750,000 was still a lot of money. People spending that much wanted to get a gorgeous house. They were looking for marble counter-tops, real wood floors, plush carpets, and upgraded stainless steel appliances. What they found was a nice, comfortable, simple farm-style home with no luxurious amenities. Oh well. I was happy staying put for as long as I could.
On the other hand, dad forged ahead building a home for mom up in Snowflake. At the moment, she was doing semi-well. Her legs hurt continually, there was something wrong with the sciatic nerves they though, but the doctors couldn't find any way to relieve the pain. Her feet were also numb or painful, but at least her heart and lungs seemed to be working better since her open-heart surgery. Still, dad was determined to get her up to Snowflake so Alan could keep an eye on her, and they spent a great deal of time up there as dad cleared the lot across the street from Linda and Alan and got it ready for building. Mom went with him, but she wasn't as excited as he was about moving. She loved her home in Gilbert, her friends from church, the neighborhood, and all the people she had grown up with, but most of all she loved being close to her family. She still had two sisters and a brother who lived in Mesa whom she was very close to, as well as most of her children and grandchildren.
Moe's mother, on the other hand, was slowly slipping away. By the end of the summer she had stopped eating, communicating, or even showing signs of recognition when we talked to her. Obviously, it was just a matter of time before she was gone. She died peacefully on September third, with Moe, his sister and his father, by her bed.
I went with them later that day to make plans at the funeral home. It was the first time I was actively involved in planning a funeral, although I'd been to many. They chose to use Bunkers Mortuary for the arrangements, and that was nice. I'd grown up down the street from the Bunker family, and it felt like home working with them.
Grandma's funeral was sweet. Perhaps I have a morbid streak, but I love funerals. Ever since I was a kid I've enjoyed hearing the happy memories, the inspiring stories, and the tender spiritual lessons presented at those occasions. Even through the tears, the spirit is always strong, and I love the feeling of being close to dear ones on the other side of the veil. It always reminds me of a big, joyful family reunion. Still, as I sat in the chapel at Grandma's funeral, I couldn't help wondering how long it would be before we had another one. Grandpa Ashcroft seemed so feeble just then, and was already in his late eighties. Also, in the back of my mind, I knew it was possible we might lose mother one of these days. How odd, that in the end mother outlived both Moe's father and my dad.
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