My sister and I have spent the last three days going through our mother's STUFF as we arrange to move her from her apartment in Ontario to an assisted living residence in Calgary. It did not surprise us to find ten years of income tax return receipts nor the hundreds of cards and notes she received from her grandchildren and children over the last thirty years. Our mother had taken a bookkeeping class years ago receiving the top marks. She managed the farm books with exactness and accuracy. She has lived the better part of her life away from her children and so the correspondence gave her considerable pleasure with repeated readings. What did astonish me was the emotional effect all of these discoveries had on us. We felt like we were pulling stuffing out of our mother's favorite toy. And as we stripped away these things, it was as if we were stripping away what was once our mother.
Why do we have so much stuff? Why do we hold onto all the bits and baubles? What makes one thing a treasure and another a deposit to the garbage heap? For example, one of my first sewing projects twenty years ago was a stuffed rabbit which sits on my mother's couch. Above it, you can see the embroidered pictures my sister had made for her one Christmas. She tells everyone who comes to her home that her daughters made these for her. This stuff no longer meant anything to us but for our Mother, they were concrete proof of our love for her. Our mother's memory is rapidly diminishing and there is sufficient evidence that she may not even remember this stuff when she unpacks a month from now in her new dwelling.
My sister and I had to make some executive decisions of what we would ship and what we would leave behind. Not really our choices to make but our mother is incapable of making these decisions now and we need to vacant the apartment this week. While our mother went to a birthday party in her complex, we loaded up all these bags for the Goodwill. The staff happily helped us unload the stuffing of my mother's life. As we drove away, we saw the picture of our parents' farm where they had reared us and made their life together. I'm not sure what was worse: that this picture held no value for either of us enough to keep or the tears we could not hold back as we drove away catching the last glimpses of her stuffing blowing in the wind.
3 comments:
Bonnie...I can relate so well with this post. We did the same thing to my parents home in May. I cried with emotions I had never felt before. Dad was there, and to see him walk around an comment on various things just broke my heart. My mom knows nothing and no one. She had kept every card, I swear. There were four boxes with neatly rubber banded together mail and stuffed into the box. It was interesting to see which kids and grandkids sent cards and letters often. I felt guilty going through my moms drawers and emptying out what was so private to her. We found a total of $900 that she had stashed in 10 and 20 dollar bills. What were her thoughts in doing so?
I think it was harder to do because both of my parents are still alive and yet neither could do the task themselves. We learned alot about my parents and especially my mom that we never knew. It's a shame that we are learning it now when we can't talk to her.
So, the home is sold now and Dad is living with one of my brothers in Boise and Mom is in an Alzheimer's facility. I hope your transition goes well. Prepare yourself for your mom having a set back with the change etc. My thoughts are with you.
After our recent sort and move I am even more convinced to keep our 'stuff' down to what we use and what we love. We aren't there yet but we are more mindfull. Both our parents live in homes/apartments that are beautifully kept - but crammed with stuff in every cupboard, drawer and shelf. My parents are thinking of a smaller place where some of the work is done for them - but my Mom says they just can't because she doesn't have the energy to go through everything. So one day we will. And we won't even know why so many things were kept. They are generous people - I would like to help them give their things to people who could use them now. Maybe that is my first retirement project!
I really loved reading this post. It made me think of one of my favorite poems - Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley.
After reading your post I'm sitting here thinking (when I should be going to bed) "what will I leave behind when I'm near the end?" It seems like the only thing we can really leave behind is the life we've lived. A burst of energy, a spewing of love (or hate, or whatever we decide to spew)and the energy we radiate throughout our lives I guess leaves the world a little warmer or a little colder. So we come to earth, adjust the thermostat a wee bit and make our exits.
"As we drove away, we saw the picture of our parents' farm where they had reared us and made their life together. I'm not sure what was worse: that this picture held no value for either of us enough to keep or the tears we could not hold back as we drove away catching the last glimpses of her stuffing blowing in the wind."
This is such an incredible paragraph. So sad. I know I will be thinking about this again tomorrow.
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