Progress in the Room

This past week has been tremendously hard for me. I did make some progress though. I was able to get started on Mama’s room. And I only broke down three times, but on separate days.

You know… It’s funny. When I have these breakdowns in her room, it’s when I touch something that seems to lack in sentimental value.

When I touched her adult diapers, a rush of tears overtook me. When I picked up her medicine strip off the dresser, I was assaulted by grief. And when I picked up a package of CrystalLight, I broke down all over again.

Three little packages of CrystalLight were the last gifts someone gave to Mama. I was shook that she never got a chance to enjoy them at home.

I was very glad that I got a chance to get most of her clothes out of the closet. I gathered up her more dressy items and sent them to my aunt, who is around my mom’s size. I figured she would like the dresses to wear to church.

The things I didn’t think were worth keeping, I gave to Goodwill. Sounds crappy, right? Why give something to Goodwill if I don’t want it? Well, I guess because I didn’t want it. I figure what’s my supposed “trash” will be someone’s treasure.

I’m not sure what I’ll do with Mama’s furniture. I’m keeping the television for myself. I’ll see if one of my sisters would like to assume the payments for the bedroom set. The company that provided my mom the hospital bed and wheelchair will be out this week to pick up their items. And I plan on giving the other durable medical equipment to Goodwill. The other items, such as her collectable items, will be split amongst us daughters.

I miss Mama so much. I sat upstairs and cried tonight for about fifteen minutes. I couldn’t get myself together. Again, I miss her. I wish so badly I could put this thing in reverse. No daughter should have to live without her mother.

I wish Mama wasn’t so ready to get out of here. I wish she had just let us give her the blood transfusion. I wish she was downstairs in her room, watching her television on the highest volume setting the device would allow.

But there’s nothing I can do. She’s gone. Her room is filled with things, yet it is so empty.

So, I will continue to clean up her things, sort through the artifacts, and issue them out according to my sisters’ reasonable requests.

Pray for me. I’m heart broken.

Not as Prepared as I thought

Three weeks after the death of my mother, I went inside her room for the first time. I pushed open the door, stepped over the threshold, and wept for the first time since the day before my mother’s funeral.

I leaned my head against the wall and mumbled, “Mama, why did you leave me?” When I heard the words fall from my mouth, I was startled by the pain and desperation in them. What did I mean by that question? Did I wish she was still here? Or did I wish that she took me with her?

You know… My mom has been sick for thirteen years. She had heart failure, hypertension, diabetes, end stage renal failure, permanent damage and complications behind two strokes, and end stage renal failure. I knew this day would come. I really did. I prepared myself for it each day of the thirteen years I was taking care of her. Or maybe I should say that I tried to prepare myself for it. But the truth is that there is no real preparation for the “real” departure of a great parent.

I stood in Mama’s room for about five minutes, trying to muster up the courage to take one more step. I couldn’t do it. I turned around, closed the door behind me, and prayed that I would have the strength another day.

I’m hoping that today will be that day. I will say a prayer, take a deep breath, and enter my mom’s room once again. This time, I hope that I’m able to walk in with the boldness and courage that I saw my mother function in for at least the 41 years I’ve been alive.

I’ll let you know how it goes.