An empty room - 2024 10 23
Yesterday we tackled the task of removing Mom's personal possessions from her room. I did not realize how hard it would be. Luckily my son, Knoll, and my sister, Holly, were here to help with the work.
The day before, I had a good day. Good energy, able to set myself a modest goal and work throughout the day to get it done. Yesterday my energy was very low. I just felt tired, drained, out of gas. Every question took a great effort to answer. Every decision felt heavy and hard.
Knoll started by sorting the drawers from Mom's desk. Every drawer had an assortment of different things in it, they were all a mix. Knoll was able to set up a collection of containers and figure out categories for what should go where. The last drawer on the lower right was physically heavy to open. This drawer held all Mom's hand weights. She loved to get her exercise lifting these weights while she sat in her chair or lay on her bed. She had extraordinary arm strength and it came in handy as she needed it to lift her from sitting position to stand up.
I took down the art from Mom's walls, and her beloved kitchen clock. That clock was battery operated and made a tick, tick, tick sound. Mom would lie in bed sometimes in deep concentration, watching the second hand sweep around the numbers. If I interrupted her, she would keep counting until the sweep was completed to whatever number on the clock she had determined was the endpoint. Then she would look at my brightly and say, "What was that you were asking?"
As the day progressed I got more and more tired. Holly arrived and helped to sort Mom's clothes - anything we wanted to keep, what could go to thrift store, and what could be thrown away. Mom loved her clothes. She had a nice collection of eclectic style. She used to like to think about her outfit for the next day. When she was strong enough, she would get up and lay out her clothes for the morning. She liked to wake up and look at the clothes waiting for her to get up and put them on.
We collected her unused medications to take to the local pharmacy for disposal. We collected her unused supplies for donation to the local home support office so they could be given to other families who were starting out with their frail elder at home. We collected the books to put into storage in the attic. We collected her clothes and shoes to drop at the thrift store. We collected her medical equipment - wheelchair, walker, commode, toilet seat, etc. for storage in my brother's attic. We sent a photo of the big recliner chair to our friends who lent it to us, to see if they wanted it back. We collected all the art and put it aside to figure out later. I don't know if anyone wants that tick tock clock.
Later, as I sat with my sister, my tiredness gave way to deep, gulping sobs of grief. Another day, another milestone, another acknowledgement of the loss.
I don't know if this every gets easier. We just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Tomorrow it will be one year since my Mom died. It is no longer a question of getting easier, so perhaps that means it has. But there are hard and heavy days, and there are other days when I make food as she would have made it, and it a comforting ritual. There is still sorting of her clothes to be done, I will go to Vancouver for that job, because it feels important. Such a review of her life, so many memories caught up with the garments. I am not sure how it can be a year, already. But I will say that the hard parts soften, and the memories remain. Sending you a hug. Rest when you need to. This is heavy lifting, if invisible.
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