What happened to my old parish?

When I moved back to my native Boston area as an adult with a young family, we found a home just a couple of blocks from the house where I had lived as a child—and where my parents still lived. The proximity to the children’s grandparents was a bonus, but the house was perfect in several other respects. It was in a nice neighborhood, which I knew well. The town was adjacent to the city, and my downtown office was a quick train ride away. The home was within easy walking distance to a library and to an unusually beautiful parish church.