This abandoned house is the house my father grew up in. Years ago it was a farm. Many years ago. The house is the only thing that remains of the farm. No one has lived in it for over a decade. It sits on an a quarter section of land. I never met my grandfather, he died of cancer before I was born. My father was the last of six children and he was the one that helped look after him in his final days. He drove him to the hospital for cancer treatment in his parent’s car.
After that Dad met mom, got married, and me and my sister followed. My grandmother lived in the house for many years. My father’s brother bought the land many years ago and grandma lived in the house. Dad died in 1997. My grandmother died in 2003. His brother that owned and farmed the land with his other holdings died in 2014. He was the last one of the six, three men and three women. His daughter has that land now.
As a kid growing up our family lived in British Columbia. All the other relatives lived in Alberta. Dad would say that he felt more comfortable being in another province. Through the years I got to know why. He would never talk about it however he would on rare occasions let slip that his father was physically and psychologically abusive. Sometimes I would hear bits and pieces from relatives as to what kind of man my grandfather was. He was the kind of person that never talked about certain things. Dad once kind of stated he felt relieved when his father died.
When we visited relatives as a kid we would always visit his mother at this place. I do not think he ever liked coming here. I do not recall him having any fond memories of the place.
I had not seen it for a few years until a few weeks ago. Time and nature is taking over and it will eventually fade from memory.