Memory Hole the Size of a House
Thanks to mistakes, confusion, and incompetence, my mother’s house was sold out from under her on Friday, October 24th. While the new owner was willing to give us two weeks to clear the house, I didn’t have two weeks to spend on the task; I had a job to return to and had to focus on finding my mother a new place to live very very quickly. So Maya and I drove up Saturday, ran vital errands for Mom on Sunday, and spent three 12-hour days recovering what we could from the house.
Those three days are the days that wounded me.
I lived in that house for about 28 years. I originally left after 18, but the car accident that destroyed my hip took me back. Depression, anxiety, and concern that my mother couldn’t care for herself kept me there for another ten years afterwards. When I left, I left quickly, and took only essentials. On occasion when I returned to visit I would grab a remembered item or two, but I never made a priority of it; I didn’t have the time or resources, so little of it was necessary to my life at the time, and it would all still be there next visit.
All of those things were indeed still there that Monday, and time had run out. Indeed, most of the three days were devoted to recovering valuables of my mother’s. But I ventured briefly into the two rooms which held most of what I’d left behind, and barely knew where to begin. Maya was an amazing help, repeatedly unearthing treasures I’d long ago written off or even forgotten about; but so much simply had to be abandoned. Once again, there wasn’t the time or resources, and so little of it was necessary to my life now.
Still… even though it’s all just things, and my life would have continued on nicely if I hadn’t recovered a single brick of Lego or old amateur film prop… knowing that all the things I had to leave behind are even now being consigned to a landfill is hurting. My memory isn’t always the best when it comes to anything useful or important, and so many of those items were memory bookmarks. I’ve just dragged those bookmarks to the trash and hit “Delete”. I’m still suffering from that.
Also, I pushed my body to its limits those days, which it’s still unhappy about. The saga of getting Mom re-settled isn’t over, and there are other unavoidable weighty matters on the horizon. So this hasn’t been the best of weeks. I’m writing this in hopes it pushes forward my own personal healing process, gets me closer to letting it all go. Also, so that ten years from now when I’m trying to remember exactly when all this happened, I have a journal entry.
I have Maya, Mom is safe and warm, and there are good things coming in my life. All I have to do is hang in there.
