Even though my mother was a meticulous organizer, there remained a considerable amount of work ahead after her passing. Fifteen years prior, my parents had purchased a beautiful builder’s model home that was tastefully decorated. Sadly, shortly after they moved in, my father passed away, leaving my mother to navigate life alone, separated from her five children. She adapted remarkably well, cultivating friendships, joining a book club, traveling, playing golf, and visiting her children’s families a few times a year. Meanwhile, as I was busy raising my own family, visiting her became challenging, especially in a house where every room opened onto the swimming pool deck. Consequently, I rarely went.
My siblings and I agreed that selling her house furnished would be the best option. I divided the task into three categories: items to donate (which filled the garage), items to discard (which overtook the driveway), and belongings to keep for my siblings and myself (which filled five large boxes). I dedicated three long days, each lasting 16 hours, to sorting through her possessions.
This journey was both beautiful and heartbreaking. I found solace in solitude, sifting through my parents’ belongings, reminiscing about their shared art collection, and mourning the closing of a chapter I never anticipated would end. The framed photographs scattered throughout the house—depicting my mother with my father, my siblings, and our families—brought both joy and sorrow.
Amidst the memories, I stumbled upon a scrapbook, not unlike a baby brag book but intended for adults. It chronicled our achievements: job promotions, legal victories, and invitations to art shows. I could picture her proudly sharing it with friends. While I wished my sister could have joined me for support, I found comfort in the quiet.
It was painful to confront the signs of my mother’s decline, evidenced by drawers filled with books on memory loss, workbooks with cognitive exercises, jars of vitamins for brain health, and many notes she had written to herself. In hindsight, we should have recognized the signs earlier.
I remembered how my brother and I had gifted her digital photo frames filled with images of our lives, now likely discarded because she struggled to operate them. As her world became smaller, she seemed to simplify her belongings, striving for a minimalist environment that was easier to manage. In her kitchen hung a large framed whiteboard that she had asked me to create for her to list tasks. The word “Tissues” remained written on it from two visits prior.
As the piles of trash and donations grew, I set aside items for the five boxes, choosing things that I thought my siblings would appreciate—sentimental keepsakes too precious to part with. I pondered what to do with the family photos we had sent her over the years. Should I return them to their senders?
Years ago, after my husband’s grandmother passed away, my mother-in-law immersed herself in a similar endeavor. She sent me a box containing a Tiffany tulip vase that my husband and I had given to his grandmother long ago. Although it was more aligned with her taste than mine, I kept it. Every time I see it, I think of Grandma Lena and her kindness.
Taking inspiration from my mother-in-law, I did the same with gifts I had given my mom. As an artist, she always appreciated the handmade items I sent her, whether something I crafted or purchased from a shop. If she didn’t resonate with an item, it would often disappear without a trace.
To my delight, I discovered a beautiful glass rainbow I had given her shortly after my father’s death. I had hoped it would remind her of him and bring a smile to her face. Unlike the digital frames and other gifts, the rainbow had endured. I was thrilled to bring it back home, safely stowed in my carry-on bag rather than trusting it to shippers. Now, whenever I see it resting on a shelf, I think of my mother and smile.
This article was originally published on Sep. 26, 2015.
For more insights, check out this post on at-home insemination kits to keep your journey engaged. Additionally, if you’re interested in safe summer practices, visit this expert resource. For a deeper understanding of pregnancy, explore this informative article.
Summary:
This piece reflects on the emotional journey of sorting through a mother’s belongings after her passing. It captures the bittersweet memories associated with cherished items, the signs of her memory decline, and the deep connections that linger through keepsakes like a glass rainbow gifted long ago.