In all honesty, I think sometimes I must be going crazy.
This past week I was obsessed with Mom and Dad’s deaths.
What a pleasant topic.
If I woke up in the middle of the night – I couldn’t get back to sleep as I obsessed over what I could have done to make their “journey” more peaceful. (Really?)
If I woke up in the morning, I had to get out of bed as I couldn’t shut off my thoughts about their final moments and how I could have made those moments better.
Seriously – what the heck?
My last trip to see my therapist – I was Hell – bent on finding out answers.
Who would have thought that the answer would come in the form of “dishes”. Remember those dishes that I spoke of last week? Well, it’s all about the dishes… Mom’s dishes. They are the last things to go from the condo. I just cannot bring myself to remove them. Why? I came to understand that their removal represents that Mom is no longer there to use them. I never did grieve Mom as I was thrown into taking care of Dad. I am able to remove all other things from the condo – but not Mom’s things. The last Mom icons: her pantry, her kitchen, her dishes… are like mountains. When they are gone – it’s over. She has really gone. I am pretty good at denying that. I used to think I didn’t remove them because I didn’t want Dad to suffer. I now realize that in my own mind I could pretend that Mom wasn’t really gone as her dishes were still there waiting for her to cook her turkey, her roast beef, her chicken…
Tomorrow is the day. The dishes will be packed. I am sooooo not looking forward to it. No matter how I candy – coat it (I’ll just bring them home and then decide what to do with them…) they are leaving “Mom’s” domain. That means that Mom no longer needs them. Why? She is no longer there. STOP! Really???? But what if she is? What if she is there and I’m taking her things? SILLY. What if she disappears after all of her cooking things are gone? STOP! What if she thinks I’m taking her world apart? REALLY? What if she is screaming, please, Stacey, stop … and I don’t hear her? EGAD. Can I hear her screams? I didn’t hear her when she died. How do I know?
But, still, in spite of all this … tomorrow is the day. The dishes will be packed. Life – time – progress? How does it all work? Where are they and what will they think that I am invading their privacy?
Tomorrow is the day.
Tomorrow.
It’s almost like preparing for another funeral – tomorrow.
Honestly – all in the name of Mom’s dishes.
High Flight 