We miss her

 Yesterday I told my dad I was trying to figure out why we don’t live here all the time.  I really love it.  

Olivia and I took an early walk and I went outside to wait for Olivia and our Aunt Olivia and cousin Hannah were walking by.  We stopped to chat and Hannah told me about the encounter they’d just had with a badger.  (More specifically it was an encounter one of their dogs had with the badger.). Hannah said it was “enough drama for the week.”

Olivia and I walked around the circle and she told me about her job and I told her about the dust bowl (I am seriously fascinated and it’s probably a good thing that I forgot my backpack with that book in it or I would keep telling everyone all about it).

Later my sisters and I met up at my dad’s to start the process of going through my mom’s things.  We didn’t know what my dad would want to do and I know we all wish she was here and we didn’t have to think about it.  We decided to start with the clothes, which was a lot.  Maybe we should have started with something less emotional, but we dove in.  

We laughed and cried a little more than we laughed.

There were certain clothes that we’d pull out that just reminded us so much of her and we’d weep.  We each took at least one sentimental shirt that we’ll never wear, but we will always treasure.  We made a huge pile of clothes for our sisters-in-law and daughters and nieces to consider (we’ll donate anything they don’t want) and we picked some clothes we wanted too.  Some of the clothes smelled just like her and we passed them around, inhaling and crying.

There were some clothes in a bin that had been our grandma’s.  I claimed a raincoat and it smelled like her house.  I wish someone could figure out how to bottle up scents like your grandma’s house or your mom.

My mom’s purse was in the bottom of the closet and I opened it and it was just 100% my mom’s purse.  The contents would have been the same when I was ten years old.  There is just something so comforting and familiar about your mom’s purse.  There were a lot of pens.  She was always ready with a pen.  There was a Reader’s Digest magazine, because she was never without reading material.  There were emery boards, keys, her wallet.  All the things.  I handed my dad the wallet and he pulled out her temple recommend and we cried fresh tears.  It was a prized possession of hers.

When everything was sorted and folded and contained, I came back to our house and cried.  I felt somehow like I’d lost my mother all over again.  I really don’t think it’s something I’ll ever get over and I guess I’m glad about that.

I am a lucky girl to be her daughter.

I am also so grateful for our good dad who hugs us when we cry together and is as ever, the steady in any storm.  I’m grateful for my sisters.  I’m glad we can be together.