A Struggle
I am attempting to go through my mother's things and figure out what things to keep and what to discard. I am struggling.
Sooner or later this needs to be done. I need to decrease the entropy around me.
Yet, it is so very hard.
I see the dress she was sewing draped over the chair. Never to be finished. Receipts that bear her signiture I stuggle to discard because there will be no more items that will again have her handwriting. Her clothes will never again be worn by her and yet still carry her scent.
All this simply reduces me to tears. Just as well because then I can no longer see them through the blur of wetness and it all just goes away from the range of my vision.
Perhaps, this all is just too soon to do this. It has been a year, let it feels like just yesterday I watched her take her last breath.
Perhaps this is just the wrong time of year to do this. The holidays are still hard enough to deal with without this extra burden.
Perhaps, just perhaps, I am just not ready...
Sooner or later this needs to be done. I need to decrease the entropy around me.
Yet, it is so very hard.
I see the dress she was sewing draped over the chair. Never to be finished. Receipts that bear her signiture I stuggle to discard because there will be no more items that will again have her handwriting. Her clothes will never again be worn by her and yet still carry her scent.
All this simply reduces me to tears. Just as well because then I can no longer see them through the blur of wetness and it all just goes away from the range of my vision.
Perhaps, this all is just too soon to do this. It has been a year, let it feels like just yesterday I watched her take her last breath.
Perhaps this is just the wrong time of year to do this. The holidays are still hard enough to deal with without this extra burden.
Perhaps, just perhaps, I am just not ready...
posted by Katie at 1:13 PM
2 Comments:
As I read your blog the emotions that I felt when I packed my mother's things away flooded me and my throat became tight.
My father wanted my mother's things packed and out from his sight because he could not stand to look everywhere and see her yet not have her with him. One month after she died I found myself alone and crying, and yes struggling as I packed her things. More than one time I lifted her clothes to my nose and closed my eyes to deeply inhale her scent in hope that I would never forget. My hands brushed along the quilts that her hands would never finish. So many memories.
Every once in a while I will turn and inhale her scent. It's almost as if she is in the room with me but I know she is not. The difference between when I was packing her things and inhaling her scent and now, is that now, when I think I smell her, I can smile and remember good things. Sometimes my eyes blur, but even those tears, eventhough born of a loss that will never recover, are filled with the love she shared with me.
To be faced with those feelings......I don't know when anyone is truly ready.
You don't have to do it now. You certainly don't have to do it over the holidays.
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