Very soon I must turn over the keys to mom's apartment, thus ending a lifetime of
"going home." There's a few things left to remove: remnants of my dad's library, an entertainment center and a cabinet waiting to be shipped to my sister. I'm not minding this stalling of completion of this project of emptying mom's home (she is now in assisted living), for I know there will be a huge "something" missing when I hand over the keys and can no longer go to what has been her home the past six years. Dad never lived there, but his memory is everywhere and has been as I sift through photos, papers, letters and much more. Sometimes I have to shake myself to come back to the present.
My cousin suggested that it is much gentler "breaking up" Mom's home while she is still living, than it would be if she were no longer with us. It's not a final good-bye, for Mom is just around the corner in her little room, surrounded by familiar things. It's homey and pretty, just like all her homes have been. I open the door and she's there, always welcoming me with a smile, and never complaining about all the changes that have recently come her way. Content to be content, that's my mother. (Oh that I'd learn that ...) So I guess I really can still go "home."
Photo: Mom's balcony view. We'll miss it, but we can see it from another porch when the weather gets warmer.