The house I am living in is a gift from my father.
He gave it to me when I was six years old and he was still in a coma.
It has been there since I was four.
Since I was 12 years old, I have been living in it.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about the home and the memories I’ve shared with it.
And now I have to share them with others.
So I wanted to share how I built it.
But the key to this story is the person who built it, my mother.
I’m sure you will be able to understand the story I’m sharing here.
My mother built the house because her husband was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and was struggling with it daily.
He suffered from dementia, depression and hallucinations.
When my mother first took him to the doctor for treatment, she was told she would never see him again.
After he was discharged, he developed dementia.
He died in his sleep at a young age, never to return.
But when my mother finally did see him, he was living a very happy life.
His life was filled with a lot more than just his dementia.
I can say that his memory and intelligence were beyond the ability of any other person to match.
He had a gift, a unique ability to remember things that he had never seen before.
I will share how my mother built this house in a future post.
But first, let me tell you about what I have learned.
The first time I went to visit my mother in hospital, she had a few items that she wanted to sell.
She was worried that she would lose her house.
So she took them with her.
She knew that she was going to lose everything.
She also knew that the items would have to go on a waiting list for a few years.
I had to do what I could to help her out.
The items I took with me were books, magazines, a pair of glasses and a pair for my hair.
I also took a pair from my grandmother.
She had a special pair of scissors for my head.
I have had my own pair of earrings for over 30 years.
And I bought a book for my son to read when he was little.
That was all that I had.
But it wasn’t the only item she had left.
She gave me a little girl’s book for her to read to her little sister, and she also gave me this gift of a box of books that she had given to me.
I think that this gift will be something that I will remember for the rest of my life.
It was her way of giving back.
I took a lot from my mother when she died.
I am not proud of it.
She didn’t deserve it.
Now I’m trying to get back to her.
And in the process of doing so, I’ve been learning a lot about how she felt about the world.
And that is something I really want to share with the world as well.
What made my mother so proud of her house?
She loved the place that she lived in.
She loved her kids.
She cared for them.
She believed that she could always be happy in her home.
She lived her life with love, respect and affection.
She spent her time with her children.
She would walk through the house and she would hug them and talk to them.
So when I went in to visit her, she wasn’t just saying goodbye.
She told me that she loved the house.
She said she loved her children and that she felt proud of the place she lived.
She even told me how she would have loved to have stayed in her house if she hadn’t been able to get better.
What a wonderful woman.
She did all that she thought she needed to do to stay healthy.
I want to tell you more about how my mom made her house look beautiful and how she did it.
First of all, I wanted her to have a little more space in her bedroom.
I wanted a little bit more privacy for her and the family.
My father would always sit at his desk when he came home from work.
He would sit on the edge of his chair and read.
And he would come in with his books and we would sit and read and talk.
I used to sit at the foot of his bed, but he moved me down so I sat on the bed, too.
He used to put me in the bathtub.
I would sit in the tub while he was in there.
I love that.
I really like that.
And then there was my bed.
My husband used to sleep on the other side of the bed.
So we would sleep on a side of his desk.
I wouldn’t sit on his side of it but I would sleep with my feet on the desk, right next to his chair.
I always liked that.
She used to have her own bed, which I didn’t have.
She kept her own