This is not how I imagined I would be spending my last night at my mom's home. My idea was a quiet peaceful time, reflecting on the many happy moments enjoyed over the past 47 years visiting with family.
In reality every piece of furniture is gone now except for a wheelchair and a cane-bottomed upright chair that I managed to break, standing on it earlier to clean out some tall shelves. My sleeping bag, brought from Ohio, developed a leak last night. Tonight I am in a nearby motel.
This experience, many before me have endured. My mother saved everything. Due to her battle with dementia in later life she was unable to discern meaningful documents from bulk mail ads. This has meant a careful review of nearly every box and envelope encountered.
In the process I have discovered some keepers - postcards written by my grandmother to my mom in 1940 just before she was married. I have found also postcards my dad wrote to my grandparents days after my birth, letting them know that all was well. I have found handmade dresses my mom lovingly sewed for me as a baby. (I saved one.)
The leave taking was eased somewhat a few days ago when I met the new owners. They love the place and seem very eager to move in. They plan a big garden, a workshop to be built, a small barn, and a few head of cattle. They even told me I was welcome to visit any time.
Actually, memories are the best.
Wow! Pat this is so moving. Did I just say that? I can feel the love for your Mom in your words. So sad but so wonderful that you have these special keepsakes.
Beautiful story, Pat. Your tender feelings came through your writing, and I can really appreciate what you went through in checking through every piece of mail. Dementia is tough at any stage of life. But memories are really best!