The House
on 9th Line
The House
on 9th Line
The House
on 9th Line
The House
on 9th Line
A Memoir of Grief and the End of a Family
A Memoir of Grief and the End of a Family
A Memoir of Grief and the End of a Family
Grief, like memory, does not obey the rules of time. It arrives when it wants to, stays longer than we ask it to, and reshapes itself in the background of our lives.
Grief, like memory, does not obey the rules of time. It arrives when it wants to, stays longer than we ask it to, and reshapes itself in the background of our lives.
Grief, like memory, does not obey the rules of time. It arrives when it wants to, stays longer than we ask it to, and reshapes itself in the background of our lives.
These stories are not just about grief. They are about inheritance, not of money or property, but of lessons, both bitter and beautiful.
Even though we lost the house, the heirlooms, and the Sunday dinners, we still carry the love he gave us. The real inheritance. The one that can’t be rewritten.
These stories are not just about grief. They are about inheritance, not of money or property, but of lessons, both bitter and beautiful.
Even though we lost the house, the heirlooms, and the Sunday dinners, we still carry the love he gave us. The real inheritance. The one that can’t be rewritten.
These stories are not just about grief. They are about inheritance, not of money or property, but of lessons, both bitter and beautiful.
Even though we lost the house, the heirlooms, and the Sunday dinners, we still carry the love he gave us. The real inheritance. The one that can’t be rewritten.
What do we inherit from our families?
Their love, their wounds, or both?
What do we inherit from our families? Their love, their wounds, or both?
In The House on 9th Line,
Aaron R.B. Bangay traces the rise and fall of a family bound by love but fractured by betrayal, grief, and silence. Centred around the family home north of Toronto, this memoir explores how addiction, favouritism, and loss can turn a sanctuary into a battleground.
A tribute to a grandfather’s quiet goodness and an unflinching account of the dysfunction that followed, this is a story of intergenerational trauma, memory, and the fragile threads that hold families together until they don’t.
After his death, the home became more than a dwelling; it became a symbol of grief, resentment, and unravelling bonds. What was once a sanctuary transformed into the stage for estrangement and financial ruin, where family loyalty was tested and, ultimately, broken.
Actual photos of Roland and Daisy, enhanced by AI.
To read this book, you must come to understand why we all loved and miss Papa so much: because he wasn’t just a nice man.
He was a good man.
To read this book, you must come to understand why we all loved and miss Papa so much: because he wasn’t just a nice man.
He was a good man.
To read this book, you must come to understand why we all loved and miss Papa so much: because he wasn’t just a nice man.
He was a good man.
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Available mid-2026
Available mid-2026
Available mid-2026
The House on 9th Line is a haunting memoir of love, loss, and the quiet fractures that tear families apart. At its heart stands a modest home built by the author’s grandfather, a man remembered for his goodness, generosity, and unwavering devotion to family. Within its walls were moments of joy, warmth, and connection, but also seeds of betrayal, addiction, and silence.
Through raw storytelling and historical context stretching back to the traumas of war and intergenerational addiction, Aaron R.B. Bangay examines how grief reverberates across generations. Both personal confession and social commentary, this memoir wrestles with the question: What do we inherit from our families: their love, their wounds, or both?
The House on 9th Line is a haunting memoir of love, loss, and the quiet fractures that tear families apart. At its heart stands a modest home built by the author’s grandfather, a man remembered for his goodness, generosity, and unwavering devotion to family. Within its walls were moments of joy, warmth, and connection, but also seeds of betrayal, addiction, and silence.
Through raw storytelling and historical context stretching back to the traumas of war and intergenerational addiction, Aaron R.B. Bangay examines how grief reverberates across generations. Both personal confession and social commentary, this memoir wrestles with the question: What do we inherit from our families: their love, their wounds, or both?
The House on 9th Line is a haunting memoir of love, loss, and the quiet fractures that tear families apart. At its heart stands a modest home built by the author’s grandfather, a man remembered for his goodness, generosity, and unwavering devotion to family. Within its walls were moments of joy, warmth, and connection, but also seeds of betrayal, addiction, and silence.
Through raw storytelling and historical context stretching back to the traumas of war and intergenerational addiction, Aaron R.B. Bangay examines how grief reverberates across generations. Both personal confession and social commentary, this memoir wrestles with the question: What do we inherit from our families: their love, their wounds, or both?
About the Author
About the Author
About the Author
Aaron R.B. Bangay is a Canadian writer whose work explores memory, grief, and the complex bonds of family. Drawing from personal experience, he writes with honesty and vulnerability about loss, resilience, and the hidden dynamics that shape our closest relationships.
The House on 9th Line is his debut memoir, written as both a tribute to his grandfather’s quiet goodness and a testament to the lessons learned from love and betrayal.
He currently lives in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, with his husband, whom he credits for his unwavering support as a cornerstone in the therapeutic process of writing this book.
Aaron R.B. Bangay is a Canadian writer whose work explores memory, grief, and the complex bonds of family. Drawing from personal experience, he writes with honesty and vulnerability about loss, resilience, and the hidden dynamics that shape our closest relationships.
The House on 9th Line is his debut memoir, written as both a tribute to his grandfather’s quiet goodness and a testament to the lessons learned from love and betrayal.
He currently lives in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, with his husband, whom he credits for his unwavering support as a cornerstone in the therapeutic process of writing this book.
Aaron R.B. Bangay is a Canadian writer whose work explores memory, grief, and the complex bonds of family. Drawing from personal experience, he writes with honesty and vulnerability about loss, resilience, and the hidden dynamics that shape our closest relationships.
The House on 9th Line is his debut memoir, written as both a tribute to his grandfather’s quiet goodness and a testament to the lessons learned from love and betrayal.
He currently lives in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, with his husband, whom he credits for his unwavering support as a cornerstone in the therapeutic process of writing this book.
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