My sister has a mausoleum. She drives it to work and daycare and gymnastics. There it sits in various lots housing its precious cargo until she puts it in gear and directs it to her next destination. It is a mobile mausoleum and it is multifunctional. It is her minivan.
I am using the term mausoleum quite loosely of course. No, she is not National Lampooning around town nor are my mom's cremains sitting atop the dash. However, the trunk has become storage central for my mom's belongings. What once carted strollers, bicycles, picnic lunches, swim gear and an array of G-rated, battery-operated fun now boasts boxes and bags of Michele's life.
I am talking about her stuff, her life....her. Clothes, cookbooks, make-up, small appliances, shoes, handbags, baskets, casserole dishes, bake ware, quirky hats from decades ago, Christmas decorations, Easter decorations, insert-next-holiday-in-line decorations.......the list continues.
What to do when all you have left are the "things" of one's life? For some, they are meaningless and bring no comfort. They can be piled up on the 25 cent table at the next yard sale and it is OK. They are purely utilitarian and they just possess a purpose. A kitchen-aide needs a counter to shine its chrome upon. It longs to be filled with fresh ingredients that it can churn into homemade goodness. It doesn't belong in the back of a minivan colliding with the espresso machine at every sharp turn.
Or does it?
Many of the clothes still have the lingering scent of my mom. You can piece together the combination of lotions and perfumes if you hold the garment close and really concentrate. That bake ware served up the Apple Betty that would be browning when I came home from school. The funky collection of hats provided countless hours of creative dress up and that kitchen-aid churned more laughter, arguments and love than actual dough. For some, these memories are embedded in the "things". They have become one and they cannot be separated.
So cheers to those who can let them go and cheers to those who hold them dear.
Kristine, this is beautiful. I think about and miss your mom everyday. I think about you and Lisa and can't even come close to imagining the loss and sadness you are dealing with very day.
ReplyDeleteI started my blog during a rough period. Although it was nothing like losing your mother, it really helped and still does. There is something very theraputic about it even if no one is following, just writing it helps. I hope after the year you continue with it, even if just for yourself and sharing of your life.
Love, Linda