Monthly Archives: August 2021

Packing Up a Life

Photo Source: https://pixabay.com/photos/steamer-trunk-trunk-luggage-antique-3414018/

After my Mum died, walking into her little apartment all alone without her there was more than I could bear. I laid down on her bed and cried into her pillow. I pulled her blankets all around me, trying to breathe in any remaining scent of her. I went out and sat in her favorite chair and looked through old family albums. In a few short weeks I knew I would have to let her apartment go, my last remaining connection to her.

As hard as it was, day after day, to slowly sort through and pack up her things, in many ways, it brought me great comfort. It was my quiet time, away from the noise of everyday family life, where I had to be strong and not cry every second in front of my little girl who had just lost her Nannie.

Sorting through Mum’s things was emotional hell, but it also felt like in a strange way, she was still there, and we were spending time together reminiscing about old times. I would shut the door and be transported back in time to when she was alive, when I would drop by for visits. Some days all I could do was sit and look around and soak it all in, trying to take a snapshot in my mind so I would never forget.

And at times, it was like finding buried treasure – secret envelopes revealed poetry my Mum had written over the years. A lover of words, she also had clippings and post-it notes of inspirational and humorous thoughts literally everywhere – taped in cupboards, hidden in closets. My Mum and I are both writers, so although I wasn’t surprised at the fact I found some of her writings and clippings, some of it I had never seen before. It was like discovering a whole other side of her that I wish I could have gotten to know better while she was still living. A regret far too common I’m afraid after loved ones are gone forever, never to return.

As I was packing up my mother’s life, I was also unpacking some of it into mine. Boxes of her photos, books and other personal mementos I couldn’t bear to give away ended up on my shelves and on my walls. I started wearing her jewelry, her watch. Wrapping her favorite blanket around me as I watched her favorite movies.

People said they are just things, you can’t keep it all – and of course I couldn’t. But I was determined to keep whatever I could, and also ensured friends and family were given some of her treasured possessions as well. Because these “things” are not just “things” – they are the last remaining remnants of my mother’s life. And when I wrap myself up in the soft warmth of her favorite lime green housecoat, I can still feel her close to me again.