'Everything Must Go.' The Loss of Our Neighborhood Grocery Store

It was raining this morning. I was thankful for that. Running up my last hill on the final stretch, I stopped. There it was. The sign I have been waiting for. "Everything Must Go." I have run past this store hundreds of times, but today was different.
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It was raining this morning. I was thankful for that. Running up my last hill on the final stretch, I stopped. There it was. The sign I have been waiting for. "Everything Must Go." I have run past this store hundreds of times, but today was different. As I stood there looking at that sign, I was overcome with emotion. My body was soaked and my face was now a mix of tears and rain. I took a deep breath and continued up that hill, but I couldn't shake the feeling. This is it. They are actually leaving.

For most people that sign means huge discounts and time to stock up. "Everything Must Go" has a different meaning for me. It means smiles, laughs, dress-up days, Seahawks wigs, generosity, countless memories, and a second family, must go.

This is not a story about greed or corporate America. I am not going to discuss business, unemployment, or what has happened to the small "mom and pop" in our country. It is a simple thank you and goodbye to some amazing people who have been a part of my family's life for a long time.

So here it goes. My attempt at saying goodbye.

Dear Friends and Employees of Haggens/Albertsons,

I have stayed away for the last couple of weeks. It's not because of the prices or lack of inventory. I'm having a hard time saying goodbye. My kids have grown up with you. They've run up and down your aisles, told you stories about first days of school, first teeth lost, "Dear Santa" lists, Halloween costumes, and summer vacations. You've knelt down on one knee and listened to every single one of them. Thank you for that.

You provided solace for me when I had to get my early riser out of the house, so he didn't wake anyone else up. You let us casually stroll the aisles and look at the toys and magazines as long as we wanted, before buying our groceries. You played peek-a-boo and hide and seek in the aisles and gave us hundreds of stickers. Thank you for that.

You were my son's "first crush" as he proudly told everyone around that "Ms. Sandy is my fiancee." Every single one of you looked up when we were there. You made a point of stopping what you were doing to say hi. This wasn't done because it was your job, it was done because you believed in it. Believed in providing a service that was about much more than groceries. Thank you for that.

You let me use your bathroom on my way home from running. You were the "you can hold it" landmark on the way home from school. You called my kids by name, fed them samples that hadn't been put out yet, calmed them when they were throwing a tantrum, and helped them find me when they got lost. Thank you for that.

You taught my children about community, neighborhood businesses, interacting with adults, contagious smiles, graciousness and gratitude. Thank you for that.

In this day and age of online ordering and Walmart superstores you provided more than just groceries. You provided community. A place for the people of our neighborhood that felt familiar and welcoming. Going grocery shopping had a different meaning for us. It meant that we got to see our friends, share our stories. Thank you for that.

The kids and I did go grocery shopping today. I decided we had stayed away long enough. We were greeted with the usual energy and questions about our lives. I finally mustered up the courage to ask Sandy, "what's next"? She looked at me with that bright smile and said, "I don't know, no one has called back." We talked for a bit and she chatted it up with my kids like she always does. No pity party. No negative words about the world that is about to become her reality. I have no idea how she was feeling at that moment. I can only speculate. During that brief, yet familiar interaction, Sandy still made us feel like family. Like we BELONG there. After she walked away, I burst into tears. I just couldn't contain it any longer. The kindness, familiarity, generosity, and memories flooded my mind. Thank you for your kindness.

For a few hours each week, you have become a staple in my life, my kids lives. I look forward to seeing you, interacting at the check-out, sharing simple stories about our day. I can't help but wonder about the next chapter in your lives. Where are you going to end up? I'm sure there are a lot of unanswered questions in your lives right now. One thing I do know for sure is that no matter where each of you land, always remember that you ALL were appreciated. Your simple gestures of greeting us with smiles, calling us by name, and hugging my children as we left the store today, will be treasured by us forever. For that, I am forever grateful.

As we walked out to our car today, a woman hollered at me from across the parking lot. "Are there good deals in there?" I wasn't sure I heard her right, so I asked "What?" She repeated herself, and I found myself not listening. I wondered how this woman could have missed the importance of this store and its closing. I wasn't thinking about good deals. I was reflecting on simple friendships and lives forever changed. Uncertain futures for some pretty amazing people. Realizing that the 'good deal' that many people missed, was an opportunity for community. I looked up at that sign one last time, "Everything Must Go" and thought to myself, I hope they know they were appreciated and will be missed.

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