It is almost incomprehensible that three weeks ago today
mom was with us. She was having a rough day, but lovely moments of connection
amidst the breathing challenges. Now, what had been her worldly belongings have
been given new life.
The items had been displayed with care, and the lights
were on when we opened the door to friends, neighbors, relatives, and some who
came in as strangers and left as friends.
Tonight, we received an e-card from a friend expressing sympathy. Writing back, I mentioned that I still use the tea cozy, crock pot, and card table that had come from her mother's estate more than a decade ago.
After Carol's husband died, she insisted
on paying fifty dollars to mail multiple pairs of her late husband's shoes to us (here in
Michigan), all the way from Arizona. Although not often anymore, when we do talk on the phone,
she asks, "Is John still walking in Dan's shoes?" The answer is yes. I now understand why that is so important to her.
Our mom's yarn went to ladies at the hospital who knit caps for
babies and blankets for elderly patients. Her unfinished quilt (with pins
sticking out like a porcupine quills) was purchased by a woman who lives here
in Michigan to be mailed to a sister, who would finish it. Her loop rug loom
was donated to the senior center. Her baking pans went to the nursing home for
the baking circle. Her pillow case went to a woman whose friend makes dresses
for girls in Africa. Her fabric when to a woman who makes doll clothes. A newly-divorced dad will now put his daughter's clothing in her dresser drawers.
"All these years I was friends with the boys, and I
was never in this house…."
" I always wanted to look out from the bay window…"
"This house reminds me of my grandmother's…"
Her clothing was donated to her church emergency closet
and a local nonprofit. Her jewelry is now being worn by others. Her rings now slip on to other fingers. Her watches sit on other wrists to keep them on time.
Friends will watch her windmill turn. Grandchildren
of friends will now rock in the little chairs she helped build. Her Christmas lights will be strung in homes we have never seen. Friends will be
picking up her forks, and spoons, and knifes. A nephew will light her kerosene lamps when his power is out. Even the spices from her cupboards will be blended by other hands in other kitchens. Will the vanilla go into banana bread? Perhaps....
And her records—hundreds of vinyl records! The woman who will
dance to them has become a friend. I now know where she lives, and I know why she
came to the sale. "For years, I drove by and saw the white-haired lady. The yard was always so immaculate. At
first, I would see her bent over the flower beds. She
always had decorations out. The goose with outfits for each season! The past
few years, I would not see her out in the yard, but she would be in the living
room, looking out the bay window."
So many sweet new memories that would have been missed if we
had not handled her estate sale ourselves.
"When I read about her estate sale and that she had
passed, I could have died. I had to come by and get a few trinkets to remember
her…"
Her unused
bedspreads, unopened sheets, and towels not yet turned into crafts now belong to someone else. All the things she
treasured are now bringing others pleasure.
"When I play her records, I will think about you all…"
Her plastic shopping bags not
cut into strips (three-and-one-half-inches-wide) to be made into mats
for the homeless have been deposited in the collection center at the
grocery store.
I am so grateful to each person who has helped us continue the
celebration of her life.
Last night, I made corn bread in her cast iron tins.
Tonight, I will put her chap stick on my lips. Tomorrow, I will wear her
sweatshirt. And forever we will all be changed by her having moved from this world to the next.
