Yesterday the exterior of my house was white and I mean all white, just as white as a roll of toilet paper white. It had been this way since the time it was built in 1986. Being that I love color it seems rather surprising to me now that I didn't change it sooner, but life and death, have a way of postponing seemingly frivolous needs or desires for another time and so, my house remained colorless.
We moved here seven years ago, after Justin died, partly to run away from painful memories and partly to run away from wonderful memories, both kinds cause pain. He was only fifteen years old when he left planet earth and our home was filled with his life, from toddler to teenager he was happy, even when he was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of five, he was happy, constantly smiling, seeing the cup half full, looking on the bright side.
So, when the leukemia returned and his youthful, manly, teenage body could not beat it back, we had to say good bye. It hurt to be in that house. So, we moved to our white house. White walls inside and out, made it a clean slate; no memories-no past-no pain. It was a blank canvas and with my two daughters in school and Jacob still crawling, I found that gardening and painting faux finishes on the interior walls, sewing curtains and slip covers, pillow shams and duvets created a nice diversion to crying and if I did start to cry it didn't matter, I could still hold a paint brush.
A few years later, Jacob started grade school, the girls advanced into Junior High and then High School and I'd found the energy to return to work and enjoyed the busy hustle and bustle of juggling kids, husband and work. I worked for the Michael Hoefflin Foundation for children's cancer as their Family Outreach Coordinator which was a huge change from my previous hospital jobs, thankfully being an RN and having had my own child with cancer, prepared me to navigate the pediatric oncology world well, and I enjoyed helping other families who had to deal with the word "cancer" for the first time. It was during this time that I was contacted by a painting company by the name of A. Allbright Paint. They were having their first charity give away and wanted to know if the Foundation knew of a family, with a child who had cancer, which might need their house painted. I remember searching the data base for a good fit and hoping it would be a wonderful experience for the chosen family. Little did I know that I would be in a position to be that family who had a child with cancer...again!
While I was working for the Foundation, Jacob was diagnosed with leukemia, he was six years old. Most of the time, in the early weeks and months of his diagnosis, I felt exhausted, devastated, too weak and beat up from the first time around and too old for this. The first time leukemia devastated our family was 1990, the second time was 2000 and now in 2006, I was fried; but mothers and fathers do what they have to do to keep their babies alive and the resources deep within arose. The family's needs were always met but there was no room for stress reducing activities which required any energy, my working, painting, sewing and gardening days were over and I kicked into survival mode.
December 2007 found our family adjusted to the lifestyle of having another child with cancer, a life style which left little room for home repairs. When I found out we were nominated to receive the 3rd Annual A. Allbright Paint Charity $7500 Give Away, I didn't realize our house even needed painting. My first thought was "Is there any other family who needs this more? Our house isn't that bad is it'" I took pictures of the exterior of the house to send in, as requested, but it wasn't until I saw those photos that I realized how bad the outside of our home looked. Paint was chipping so badly from the rotting back patio cover that it looked like it was snowing and the warped garage door looked like it was a hundred years old. How could I not have noticed the state of disrepair our home was in? I actually chuckled a bit at having that thought as my mind flashed back to how difficult life had been since Justin's passing and how truly devastated we all were with Jacob's diagnosis. Things like house paint go unnoticed as you shuffle from one appointment to the next, wait in lines, give your child pills and treatments and just sitting still with them, holding them, cuddling away some of the soreness. They hurt, not just the child with the diagnosis, but the whole family hurts. Comforting the sick one, supporting the worried siblings and trying to help everyone make sense of life's tragedies leaves little room for thoughts about Moroccan Velvet Red or African Adventure Tan.
When I got the call from the A. Allbright team saying that our family had been chosen for the give away, I had to sit down. I was happy and excited about the idea so much so that my knees went weak, but I didn't realize just how much a fresh coat of paint and the addition of color could lift me up. When Josh, Debbie, Jud and their colorist came over with a lovely gift basket to introduce themselves and meet our family, I knew this was going to be special but I still didn't know how renewed it would make me feel. The colorist tuned in immediately to the colors we liked and Dave and I put our trust in her artistic expertise. It felt good to have room to think about beautifying the house and the process made me feel light hearted and pampered, like a woman at a spa. "How about a little candy apple red for those toe nails?" There's nothing like a good power-wash to remove an ugly, weathered exterior--exfoliating of another kind.
When the entire team arrived, in their white painter's pants (the kind with the little tool holding loop on the left leg, that were popular when I was in high school and are still a personal favorite), they went right to work like cosmetic surgeons. The pre-op prep left my home's tender parts covered under layers of plastic sheeting and blue tape. It looked like a scene from Gulliver's Travels, as almost forty men, women and children surrounded every door, window and even the roof top of my house, how kind to abandon their Saturday leisure plans to perform cosmetic surgery on my disheveled lady.
Tears came to my eyes when I saw the Burnt Crimson cover the toilet paper white of the upper half of the house but thought the emotion would mellow. Instead I felt myself more emotional with each color (six in all). Brompton Gray and Adobe Gold and Artist Gray, Armagnac and a thread of Rowan White slipping it all together, I just kept feeling more and more tearful as if the stark nature of the past was being wiped away if only for a moment. As the bandage-like tape was peeled away, the drapes removed and the workers retreated, my house looked taller-she was stunning, I couldn't take my eyes off of her, like a well dressed woman with just the right accessories, a true Painted Lady.
I woke up early this morning, (which would be a total surprise to anyone who knows me). I felt like getting up early, (which hasn't happened for a long time, ask my husband). I wanted to see my beautiful house in its entire morning splendor. It felt good to get out of bed and smell the fresh morning air. I moved outdoor furniture, hosed off dirt from the back patio and threw away yard junk. I felt good.
Thank you all...every planner, painter, caulker, sander, cleaner upper, sandwich maker, power sprayer, taper, and Andy Gump picker upper-for this wonderful gift!
From the entire DeLong Family (and our neighbors)!
