This past week my three sisters and I cleaned out the last of Mom's possessions. It was not as emotional for me as for my youngest sister. Sissy has been Mom's primary caregiver forever. Sister has shared that when each of us three other sisters moved away she watched Mom grieve deeply. As a result, Sissy could never bring herself to move very far away from the area where Mom lived. Sissy was there to help decorate Mom and Dad's Christmas trees. Her children searched for Easter eggs in Mom's yard. Sissy's grandchildren spent Mom's last Valentine helping her open gifts. Sissy was always there for Mom and vice versa.
Who would take the last few pieces of furniture was being decided. My teenage bedroom suite came home with me. The ceramic chicken that held the scrubber on the kitchen sink went home with another sister. Oldest sister took Mom's little blue rocker. Sissy took things that had Mom's handwriting and Mom's favorite chair side table. The list could fill the blog for pages as we looked at each piece of paper, every book and even Mom's deodorant. There were only two small bags of trash and 3 boxes of donations at the end of the two days of sorting.
Different moments brought tears to each of our eyes. But Sissy had so many more moments. I finally realized the three sisters that had moved away had to detach from Mom in order to survive hundreds and thousands of miles away. That detachment had happened decades earlier. Sissy was having to let go of the almost daily time with Mom. Sissy was detaching.
neath protecting wings
hatchlings have warmth and food -
empty nest cries
© Janice Adcock
Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on