On Friday night I found out that my landlord of seven years had passed away a couple months ago of a heart attack. My husband and I have not lived in that Brooklyn apartment since 2016, but while we lived there we’d built a great relationship with our landlord. As someone who has had some pretty sh*tty landlords in the past, I can confidently say that we lucked out when we rented that apartment.
Hearing of his passing was very sad. Truth be told, I went out at 9PM for an ice cream run at ColdStone to eat my feelings, but I digress.
I began to think about the fact that eventually, the building will likely be sold to someone new and tenants who have never (and will never) know Randy will be living in the exact apartment and rooms where my husband and I experienced so many huge life events.
In those seven years we moved in together, I began and finished graduate school, we got engaged, planned a wedding, got married, I got pregnant, we became parents and I dealt with undiagnosed PPD and PPA, not to mention all the holidays we celebrated in that apartment.
Then there are the great conversations I had with friends over wine, the warm gatherings of loved ones and the difficult talks we had about our relationship and life together.
All those things have led us to where we are today and it feels very strange and sad to know that our connection to Randy, our past home and life is essentially gone.
Over the weekend I was talking to Courtney (of Stay Golden, duh!) about the weirdness of knowing that an entire life happened in one space and then someone new moves in and it’s almost as if the previous one never happened.
Sure, you have memories and maybe some photos but in general, other people will never know about all the things that happened. They will set up a new life and experience new memories, and in a way it can feel like yours were erased from that place. It’s as if it were a dream.
Blanche has this experience when she learns that her childhood haven, Grand View, is going to be knocked down. She’s heartbroken and makes one last trip to see it. During her trip, she relives some of the most important memories of her childhood with the Girls while sitting in Room 7, such as the heart to hearts she had with her Grammy as well as the seven places she lost her virginity.
In the end, Blanche says she’s visited by Grammy, they had a talk and she’s accepted that it is time to let go of this truly special place. This is, of course, after she spends half the episode handcuffed to the radiator in Room 7 (claiming her personal best time for that sort of thing is 32 hours, if she has someone to play with.)
Dorothy: Blanche, honey, you’ve lost the battle but at least you can still come here and visit the grounds.
Blanche: Dorothy, it won’t be the same.
True, Blanche, it won’t be the same but I guess the same sense of erasure when new people infiltrate places that were once special to you also secures the knowledge that those places, memories and times will always belong to only you, and that’s something you never have to share.
In friendship and cheesecake,