Sunday, November 08, 2009

My Mother's House

Last night and most of today I stayed in the house I spent my first 22 years in, the one that my father and his brother built from the ground up, where my mother and father lived for 66 years, until my father died there, in his own bed, surrounded by his wife, his two children, his beloved granddaughter Jessica.
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The house has been empty for the past two years, since my mother reluctantly moved near me because she should no longer live alone. At first and often, and now, thankfully, only occasionally my mother asks me if I think she will ever be able to go home. Now when I tell her I don’t think so she nods ever so slightly, and I know she agrees that she is happy where she is, that she knows this is best.
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This weekend JB and I began sorting through 66 years of Rose's kitchen dishes and pots and pans and utensils; bureau drawers and closet shelves filled with summer, winter, casual, and dress clothes; slippers and shoes, toiletries, crucifixes and metals, jewelry, hummels, china cups, canned goods, special souvenirs and presents collected and given, postcards from the war, my father’s proud navy documents, two love letters written by my parents.
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We put twenty five or so large garbage bags in front of the fence for pickup on Monday. We filled my car with special remembrances to keep forever and things to show my mother: photo albums and so many pictures of family and friends, spanning a lifetime: her 11 brothers and sisters and 4 step brothers and sisters, her parents, friends before she met and married my father, their friends throughout their marriage, children—so many children: my brother and I at every age, Jessica and Chris and cousins and neighbors. I put aside certain things for my brother and sister-in-law to look through. I know it is important that they too go through this process of remembering, of letting go.
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My Jessica spent many a Friday night at her grandparents. My mother made her home made macaroni and cheese and chocolate pudding every time and my father dropped his gruffness so he could sit on the couch with this little sized love of his life, side by side while they watched I Love Lucy. I look at my father's small horse collection, this one in front of the fireplace he was so proud of, and I tell him as I often do that I hope I am taking care of "the best thing that ever happened" to him--his wife, my mother--well enough.
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These two days were not all work. Jess came with baby Drew and we sat and talked and laughed and played with Drew while we circled around at all these memories together. Hours before I had found the diamond ring that my mother had hidden three years ago because she was afraid the cleaners would steal it. We all had looked for it everywhere but last night I found it in a bureau drawer tangled with all kinds of odds and ends, and today Jessica took the diamond ring for her own. That is what my mother wanted. She also took the United States flag that draped my father’s coffin now 13 years ago. I was surprised that she wanted that flag. It is in safe keeping now.
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My godmother Marie, who live next door and is herself 93, baked us a hot apple pie; Joey, who I rescued when his parents died and left him alone, came by for coffee. I saw my special cousin Maureen for the second time in a week after years without seeing one another, and we talked about how open my mother's house always was, how there was always room at the dinner table for an extra plate and a needed hand.
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Jess’ friend Annie, due to deliver her first baby today, stopped by and laughed with us about the goofy trips and times she had with our family when she and Jess were in junior high school. JB and I did not expect all this company and it was just….lovely.
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I left my mother’s house late afternoon, I and it in a state of organized disarray. We made significant progress in the kitchen, bedroom, some of the dining room. We have the china spread out on a table, clothes in piles of keep-throw-donate. Books are everywhere. There is so much more to do the cellar, the garage, the yard, the bedrooms, the living room, the shed. But we will get there over the winter and in the spring we will rent out the house to help with my mother’s rest home. Besides, it's not good for a house that is used to welcomes to stay empty. The love in the walls has to be fortified and shared.
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This is bringing up all kinds of emotions and memories, but it’s all good. JB said I’m lucky to be doing this while my mother is still alive and she is so right.
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In the midst of all this, I called my mother to tell her we finally found her diamond ring. She didn’t remember it was lost, and instead she asked when she‘d see me next.
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“Tomorrow, Mom.”
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“Oh good” she said.
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She lives near me now. This is her home now. That is what is most important. I have spent two days in the house I spent all of my first 22 years, and tomorrow I will visit my mother and she will greet me with the widest smile. I will show her some of her memories that I’ve tucked in a sturdy box, and I will thank her for so many reasons, one of which is because I understand that home is where the heart is.

39 comments:

  1. So true KJ-home is where the heart is. When I went through John's home it was like 20 years of aloness all rushed out for my attention all at once. It was overwhelming, as if the possessions had a life of their own.

    Yet, my sense was they and he were not unhappy-just loners.

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  2. This is why I read blogs. Honest and Beautifully written. Just wonderful.

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  3. Karen, thanks so much for writing and sharing this. It's beautiful. Your mom is in good hands with you!

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  4. debra kay, yes, the possessions have a life of their own. you say things so well. it was a soulful experience. i wanted to cry at first, but i let love take over. and to be honest, it felt great to finally start tackling this.

    purest green, thank you so much. what a sweet comment.

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  5. oh wow... this post reminds me of all the childhood homes.. somehow, they have an aura and a smell that is unique to our childhoods... thank you for this post!

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  6. what a touching post, nothing at all like it was for me when i sorted through my dead mother's things...you ARE lucky, and especially to have her with you still (and to want her with you still!) love ya kj.

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  7. lora! this is quite a treat! i just clicked on your blog--i will LOVE to visit you there. how are you? xoxo

    how do we know, that is so true!
    xoxo

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  8. love you too, soulbrush.

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  9. I second Purest Green -- this is why I love blogs. These beautiful and bittersweet stories that touch each heart in some way and bring us all together for the story of someone's life. I'm so glad your mom is close to you!

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  10. beautifully written Ms. KJ.

    I love the company that stopped by just like old times. And Marie, bless her 93 year old heart making you an apple pie from scratch!

    I'm so glad you had loved ones with you to help pack up and treasure those memories.
    Love will linger in that simple little Cape.
    Love will always be seeped into those walls.

    xoxo,
    Lo

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  11. It's a hard task sometimes deciding what to toss and what to salvage. I don't envy the task although it's nice to be reminded of things past as well. I have a little wooden angel very similar to that one which I salvaged from my aunts belongings and two Shelley Tea sets that I've never used but never had the heart to throw away. Your mother is lucky to have such a dutiful and loving daughter.

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  12. How wonderful that your daughter's friend popped by on the day she is due to deliver! It sounds as if the home has loads of happy memories buried in the walls and you're right...it needs a family.

    It was bittersweet for me, as well, when I cleaned out my parent's home. I can relate very well.

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  13. (hugs)

    "Home is where the heart is" - it's a shame some people never work that one out...

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  14. Oh KJ - this is a lovely, lovely post. You are lucky yes, to be doing this while your mom is alive, and wise. You are lucky to be you and have all the love around you.
    many hugs sent your way, Mim

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  15. Been there, done that, and I know it's hard.

    What's with the 25 garbage bags? Was it all in such bad shape that nothing could be used?

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  16. melissa, i'm glad she's nearby too. today i took her a photo album consisting of all her family and friends only throughout her life--no kids or grandkids. she was so excited and she remembered almost everyone. it was very touching. xoxo

    lo, being known is so wonderful. i love that you know me.... xoxo

    baino, you are so right! sorting, keeping, chucking--it's all so hard! i see that snowbrush asked why we had 25 bags of garbage. ha! we could have easily had 50. hey, i miss hearing from you! i'll write soon. xoxo

    marion, thanks for all your wise words. so you've been there...you know. :)

    milady, oh god, milady, that too is so true! my poor little heart's been all over the place in search of home, and i don't have the heart to tell it to stop looking...

    mim, you are a special friend....

    oh snow, we did our best. there were 50 years of things that simply could not and should not have been saved. xoxo

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  17. What a moving post KJ!
    I was reading this with tears in my eyes.......
    Brings back so many feelings since I went through the same process last year when my parents moved from their appartment to the opposite side of the street. Everything went through our hands there.
    Once moved my Mom came home after 7 months rehab after her stroke. They enjoyed their new home for only 5 months when my Dad died in January.
    Mom couldn't stay there alone so we moved her gain to a home.
    Again we had to clear their house and reduced all they had into one room.
    Your whole past passes through your hands and minds then.......
    This is sad and beautiful at the same time KJ. Good your Mom is near you and she agrees. I hope she lives many more years and will give you her smile daily.

    love
    >M<

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  18. Very much enjoyed this. I am imagining your mother's wide smile and you smiling back. Such a treasure, the relationship and bond that is our first in life and that grows through all the seasons and stages of our lives. Thank you for putting in writing the bittersweet passage of helping close down the family home so full of years of life and caring for our mothers in new settings. You captured it beautifully.
    -Kim

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  19. marianne, you have certainly been through this. that must have been extra hard. i'm kind of glad we waited almost two years before starting to dismantle my parent's house. you are a gem for writing this comment, as always marianne. xxoxo

    hello kim, welcome and thank you for such a thoughtful comment. that you singled out my mother's smile made me particularly happy.
    i'll be over to visit you soon.
    xo

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  20. How is it a 'thing' holds such sentiment? Those pieces of a life that were touched and used and loved are so cherished. I drink tea every evening from one of the teacups in my mother's and my grandmother's collection. It feels warm and safe and familiar. A way of continuing. Like your Christmas ornaments. (I just finished the 2006 posts.) I know one absolutely true thing about you. You're a keeper.
    Huge hugs to you, kj.

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  21. Oh, dear kj,
    this post takes my breath away. Isn't it something, we spend our lives accumulating memories and stuff, and then in the blink of an eye (it seems like the blink of an eye), it's time to gather and share the memories - and disperse the stuff.

    Your mom is lucky to have such a loving, caring daughter.

    Love you, dear twin,
    Hugs,
    Angela

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  22. Kj - beautiful post which I read with a tear in my eye! Gosh, when I saw those tea cups and Hummel figures that brought back memories of sorting out my Mother's house - she lived there only 20 years but could never throw anything away - unlike me, I move every four years or so and always throw out/give away masses of stuff each time (I have still have way too much though)! You are so blessed to have your mother and her beautiful smile still! P.S. Sorry to miss you on Blogland Lane - looks like you enjoyed the chat over the fence!

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  23. linda, you are fast growing on my affection. you read my 06 posts?! ohmygod, you are going to see the tracectory of my deep love and deep shaky heart. get ready, girl! i'm glad you have that teacup, i can feel how warm your hand is around it...

    twinkly twin, wow, did you say this elequently. yes, it's gone in a flash and yet it all means something to those we love and leave behind. i look at my mother's green eyes now--they are so alive and true--and i know i will never forget them. angela, i love knowing you.... xoxo

    caroline, one of these days i am coming to your blog and starting at the very beginning! i love that wanderlust about you. i would love to meet you someday!! xoxo

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  24. love to you, dear kj. this post contains so much.

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  25. Now I understand your comment on mine.
    lovely post, mixture of sadness and happieness.
    xx

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  26. a beautiful post. A rite of passage we all go through in one way or another. You are lucky you can take your time, really sort through things carefully. Blessings, suki

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  27. KJ, this was touching. YOu are blessed with so much love. You are taking great care of your mom and yes, doing this when she is still alive is a blessing.

    does your mom have a good mac and cheese recipe?

    much love

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  28. jessie, jessie, you were here. not a day goes by that i don't think of you and imagine a brush in your hand and soul in your heart. think ptown. xoxo

    just like life, firebyrd, right? xoxo

    suki, yes, that is lucky. it allows time to process, to let the memories linger...

    ah stacey, yes she does have a good mac and cheese recipe, nicely browned and crusted on the top. BUT you and i will both have to wait until i get back to her house. i left her two recipe boxes on the kitchen table, trip # 2.
    much love back.

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  29. I love knowing you, too, dear twinklier twin!
    :0)

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  30. Sounds like an emotionaly intense task. I remmeber the bitterweetness several years ago of sorting through everything in my grandmother's house after she died. I knew that house as well as my own.

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  31. Hi kj~ You're doing this in the loveliest way it could be done; everyone who shared part of the vibrant life there came by. You found wonderful keepskes and put out nonessentials. And you'll go to your Mom's today and share a lifetime of memories and mementos. Some sad, some happy things.

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  32. My heart goes with you, it can't be an easy thing to have to do. Glad there was some fun mixed in. xoxo

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  33. thank you, twinkliest twin.

    cs, it was both hard and dear. it really did help that i knew i could take special things to show my mom.

    margaret, i hadn't thought of it that way, that the people who came by were part of that house. thank you for a very lovely thought. xo

    annie, it was also one of those things that had been put off for so long that it felt great to be tackling it. xo

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  34. Oh kj, how beautiful and moving and completely lovely. i was picturing all the people and conversations, the thoughts that must have been going through your head. After all that sorting and placing memories on all those items, i hope you slept well that night. And dreamed beautiful dreams.

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  35. I will simply leave and pray the breeze wipe out any tracks of my passing. I have emptied too many houses to find reward in it anymore.

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  36. Emotional and honest. It is a flow of your emotion that binds all your words. Well done.

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  37. Wonderful post kj.

    Beautiful really. You are lovely and so are all of those you love.

    Renee xoxo

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  38. lori, i write these posts now and i think, 'oh i hope lori will enjoy this'... xo

    mark! cut it out!

    shubhajit, thank you so much. i love the way you've said this. xo

    renee, tsup!

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  39. So well written KJ. I had the rather miserable job of clearing out my mother and fathers' things when she died and he went into a home, so his requirements were few.

    My brother helped and we laughed at being 'vultures'! The photo albums are brilliant and we have tried to identify everyone where we can. I kept odd things, a bright blue glass eye make up pot being one of them.

    I hope you get it all done and can let out the house and have someone else share the happiness that was your home. xxx

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