170113.02.02
It's begun.
Just before heading to bed, I got an email from my sister-in-law, who is now at my mum's house. There were a bunch of pictures, and list of furniture and items to be divided between my brother and I.
Dad's old, old Rolex that's been in the glass cabinet for four years...
The hi-if system I bought for mum to enjoy when it became clear she would be spending more time in her bed...
The two woolen blankets she used till the very end (one of which she once gifted my friend for his birthday, which has the exact same pattern and was bought at the same time...)
A Buddha statue and worship table...
Her favourite arm chair, one she loved to lounge in because the lumbar support eased the almost constant aches in her back and shoulder blades...
Is it easier that I'm not there to deal with all this and to see the house and the empty state it is in now?
Is it easier not to have the chance to say goodbye, and to just find out you may never step in that house again?
I'm not sure.
A friend who lost her mother last year did not return to her family home since. Another who lost her mother two years ago wrote to me about how she has no courage to even touch her mum's glasses, which ha been collecting dust. An auntie said ten years after her daughter passed, she does not dare to touch her room still.
It takes time, it really does.
But for me it's already begun. And this email with picture attachments is just the beginning. My brother and sister-in-law have told me to keep my phone by my side so they can live-cam with me and show me what to take and what to chuck away...
The walls of the home mum has lived in, and which I have frequented so many times, are being torn down, it feels like. And with the walls, the memories are coming down too... memories of dinners and new year's eve gatherings together, of watching mum sitting in front of the telly absorbed in the prices of her shares, of lying next to mum's bed "just in case" something happens in the middle of the night... Memories of my nephew's first few steps, memories of beautiful, romantic nights spent lying next to my ex on the floor in the spare "bedroom"... Everything will from now on be wrapped in bubble wrap, tape and so many vivid memories.
The coming days will i feel be an emotional and tiring experience.
It's begun.
Just before heading to bed, I got an email from my sister-in-law, who is now at my mum's house. There were a bunch of pictures, and list of furniture and items to be divided between my brother and I.
Dad's old, old Rolex that's been in the glass cabinet for four years...
The hi-if system I bought for mum to enjoy when it became clear she would be spending more time in her bed...
The two woolen blankets she used till the very end (one of which she once gifted my friend for his birthday, which has the exact same pattern and was bought at the same time...)
A Buddha statue and worship table...
Her favourite arm chair, one she loved to lounge in because the lumbar support eased the almost constant aches in her back and shoulder blades...
Is it easier that I'm not there to deal with all this and to see the house and the empty state it is in now? Is it easier not to have the chance to say goodbye, and to just find out you may never step in that house again?
I'm not sure.
A friend who lost her mother last year did not return to her family home since. Another who lost her mother two years ago wrote to me about how she has no courage to even touch her mum's glasses, which ha been collecting dust. An auntie said ten years after her daughter passed, she does not dare to touch her room still.
It takes time, it really does.
But for me it's already begun. And this email with picture attachments is just the beginning. My brother and sister-in-law have told me to keep my phone by my side so they can live-cam with me and show me what to take and what to chuck away...
The walls of the home mum has lived in, and which I have frequented so many times, are being torn down, it feels like. And with the walls, the memories are coming down too... memories of dinners and new year's eve gatherings together, of watching mum sitting in front of the telly absorbed in the prices of her shares, of lying next to mum's bed "just in case" something happens in the middle of the night... Memories of my nephew's first few steps, memories of beautiful, romantic nights spent lying next to my ex on the floor in the spare "bedroom"... Everything will from now on be wrapped in bubble wrap, tape and so many vivid memories.
The coming days will i feel be an emotional and tiring experience.
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