Letters tied with string, recipes in a box, pictures in frames.
A ceramic lamp, a goose neck rocker, a candy dish.
The night table with ringed water marks, the desk with the sun-bleached side, the sofa with the tear in the fabric, the worn flowered rug.
The corner cupboard her uncle made, the dining suite she refinished by hand, the treasured piece of jewelry, the cedar chest she called hope.
Her mother’s crackled mixing bowls, a golfing cup with Daddy’s name, toys we played with as children (as did our children and then their children).
One hundred-plus years, sorted, packed and distributed. Gone in a day.
Antiques to the dealer, mattresses for the dump, boxes for various charities, small treasures packed in cars .
Somewhere, someone will fill the candy dish, make rolls and set the table. Someone will pay a bill and place the receipt in the right hand slot in the desk. Someone will set a glass of water on the nightstand and rock a baby in the rocking chair.
But it won’t be her.
Oh God, it won’t be her.
What a beautiful tribute —
Yes, you can do this, and you will be so happy later that you were there on every step of her final journey.
Thank you, Susan.
I cried as I remembered my dad. You have such a gift to touch my soul.
“we can do this”…..standing with you, hearing your heart, knowing your faith.❤
😦 We too are in that moment.
“we can do this”
Your words are so beautiful. A reminder that this world is not our true home. Praying for you today.
Thanks betsy. Standing on his promises
I am so sorry. Beautifully written Gwen. I am assuming your Mom is in assisted living. I don’t know the right words, just that my heart hurts for you from the last sentence.
thank you so much. yes, assisted living after hospital, after rehab. hard times but “we can do this”
Yes. I will be thinking of you and sending you positive thoughts and prayers.
But no magnet from the refrigerator…
Lost but not forgotten