Oct. 1st, 2006

I'm tired

Oct. 1st, 2006 09:03 pm
ciroccoj: (contemplative)
Not that it's been a terribly busy week - in fact, it hasn't - but I've been at my mom's house going through stuff and it's been a bit harder than I thought it would be. I thought it would just be a bit of a hassle, but not that big a deal. After all, Guy's family moved out a lot of his stuff, and I've been at the house every couple of days for months now, getting used to it as an empty house rather than as my mom & Guy's house with their presences oddly missing.

I also thought it wouldn't be a big deal to move her stuff out because it's not like I'm emptying the house in order to sell it; I'm just removing most of her personal things and furniture so that people can come and rent it. Nothing too final about that.

But it hit me earlier this week, as I removed her pictures from her bedroom wall: my mom's bedroom will never look like her bedroom again. If all goes well, the couple who want her house will live there for a year, then buy the house from me. If it doesn't go well, I'll find somebody else to rent/buy it. Either way, I won't be putting her pictures back up. The pictures she took of a bunch of trees she liked, then got printed on special paper, specially framed, and asked me to help place on her wall facing her bed, are now in a pile next to the front door, along with a bunch of other pictures/hangings/portraits, waiting to be put into a box. Some will come to our house and find a wall here; some will go into storage until we're in a bigger house; some will go to Value Village or a garage sale. But none of them will go back on her walls.

It's tired me out, somehow, to be dealing with that this week. It's mentally tiring to go through stuff sorting everything, and physically tiring to go up and down a jizzilion stairs carrying things, but it's also emotionally tiring, continuing this long process of letting go.

One of the moms at swimming the other day offered to help me with it. Her mom died this summer and she'd also found it unexpectedly draining, going through her stuff. I may take her up on it.

It's a strange rite of passage, losing a parent. You know in all likelihood you will have to go through it at some point in your life, but you don't know when, and you really don't realize until you're doing it just how much it takes out of you, and how long the process continues.

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