That Didn’t Happen, This Did: Part II

The Life You Leave Behind

If you haven’t read the previous post you may want to start here to read about what happened.

If you’re caught up, please continue…

Grieving has been a game of cat and mouse. Last month I broke down when it was quiet, usually late at night. It wouldn’t last long. Too much to be done. There still is.

My first day back home I slept for about thirteen hours. The longest I’ve slept since then. The week after Mom’s death was a whirlwind. The funeral was…interesting. She had a grand sendoff punctuated by outbursts of wailing and such. No running from her absence when that coffin rolled down the aisle. Six days later she was interred. Oh Mama! It was so cold that day. The wind cut through my clothes and bit my bones. The ground, slightly damp from the rain but dry enough to proceed. Slippery enough I would’ve bust my ass if I wasn’t careful. It was a quiet ceremony of sorts; over so fast I barely processed it. Cemetery earth still clings to the boots I wore.

Tending to her affairs was and is a major undertaking. Mom kept excellent records which helped tremendously. Unfortunately her final arrangements took whatever was left of the insurance. Note to anyone seeking life insurance or who already has it, coverage less than 20K really isn’t enough. Even if your debts are small—with the addition of regular bills, things add up. Do the people you leave behind a favor and spring for more coverage if you can. Maybe it’s fewer lottery tickets or cups of coffee every week. They’re worth the sacrifice. Trust me!

I dug in as I began settling her estate. It’s all semantics. There was no sizable inheritance. Just a legal term for what she left behind, personal possessions, accounts, etc. Next wave, a deluge of life hiccups. Long story short, I have to move, like in a week or two. 113 years of life (Mom + me) to be sorted and discarded. Only a fraction to have and to hold. It’s a fresh start. Losing my stuff is one thing. Saying goodbye to my greatest ally; my best friend is another.

Moving is a step towards minimalism. Who am I kidding, it’s really a necessary evil. I wasn’t expecting to go to this extreme though. Some days I feel like I’m on a roll. Other days progress decides it’s not feeling me and everything looks too important to sell, donate or trash. But I have to push. Gotta sweep this place and dust off my heart so I have energy to get things done. There are moments when I’m going through her clothes and notice some items retain her scent while others don’t. I’m an addict sniffing for her rosewater-like perfume, sweet and soft, like she was. Sometimes I forget she’s not here when my brother moves around in another room. I look towards the door thinking I’ll see her wave her hand at me.

I’m not troubled by some presence in the dark (thank God). Love haunts me because it changed form. I’m not familiar with this here but not here manifestation of my mother’s love. But I’ll take it over complete solitude. I know she’s looking out, still. I’ll follow the breadcrumbs she drops as I travel a road that wasn’t originally on my map.

…In another post I’ll tell ya where I’m going. I have my reasons ♥…

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