Remember these books? Waldo, the character in the red and white striped shirt and hat is hidden among dozens of busy characters on each page of these picture books, and you have to find Waldo. He is surrounded by a flurry of activity everywhere you look. The last two months, I've lived in Waldo's world.
Each trip to clean out my mom's home I was surrounded by a cast of characters and a list of errands. Even after I hired a property manager (a most empowering thing to do, if it is a good one, and I have a good one), I had decisions to make every time I turned around. On my last trip alone, I chose a new garage door, hired someone to conduct an estate sale, recycled medical equipment, exchanged emails with an electrician, posted furniture for sale online, met with a chimney sweep, and met with a color consultant about house paint, indoors and out. I forget what else.
The main work of sorting mom's stuff, of choosing which mementos to keep, which memories to treasure more than others, is done. These are hard choices--what to let go of. I probably kept too much. I know that each time I've returned home, I've cleaned out another cabinet, or plowed through another stack of papers, with the enthusiasm I usually save for digging into my spring garden.
I want to sort my own stuff, not leave it all to the kids. I want to decide what is most important, and let go of the rest.
Meanwhile, Mom has her own challenges in assisted living. Her dementia progresses, making it hard to understand her on the phone for a few days, then fog lifts and we have a good, coherent talk. I am thankful she has good care.
I am back after yet another trip, but this one to St. Paul to curl in a bonspiel (curling-speak for tournament). We won two games and lost two games, but for me the entire week was a much needed break.
Cookie posts to come.
Each trip to clean out my mom's home I was surrounded by a cast of characters and a list of errands. Even after I hired a property manager (a most empowering thing to do, if it is a good one, and I have a good one), I had decisions to make every time I turned around. On my last trip alone, I chose a new garage door, hired someone to conduct an estate sale, recycled medical equipment, exchanged emails with an electrician, posted furniture for sale online, met with a chimney sweep, and met with a color consultant about house paint, indoors and out. I forget what else.
The main work of sorting mom's stuff, of choosing which mementos to keep, which memories to treasure more than others, is done. These are hard choices--what to let go of. I probably kept too much. I know that each time I've returned home, I've cleaned out another cabinet, or plowed through another stack of papers, with the enthusiasm I usually save for digging into my spring garden.
I want to sort my own stuff, not leave it all to the kids. I want to decide what is most important, and let go of the rest.
Meanwhile, Mom has her own challenges in assisted living. Her dementia progresses, making it hard to understand her on the phone for a few days, then fog lifts and we have a good, coherent talk. I am thankful she has good care.
I am back after yet another trip, but this one to St. Paul to curl in a bonspiel (curling-speak for tournament). We won two games and lost two games, but for me the entire week was a much needed break.
Cookie posts to come.
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