Every time I went to mt mom's house, I would walk in through the garage. I would let myself in. If she wasn't sitting right there at the table or in the living room, where I could see her, then I would holler, "mom! Are you in the bathroom?" To which I would hear her reply, "I'm in the bathroom! I'll be right out!" Then I would say, "you're good, take your time!"
After she passed away, I would walk into her house the same way and I would holler, "mom? Are you here? Are you in the bathroom? "And then I would pause and listen because in my head, I would hear her reply that she was in the bathroom and that she would be right out. Then I would verbally reply, "you're good! Take your time! I'm just going to start, putting your patio furniture away. Or I'm just going to start cleaning this kitchen." or something similar.
I would have these conversations both in my head and verbally every day as a way to say goodbye. I would walk into her garage and see her shoes lined up against the table or her shoes beside her sliding room door, just waiting for her to slip her feet inside of them. So she couldn't really be gone....
Her makeup was neatly organized inside her make up drawer, just waiting to be applied to her face.
So she couldn't really be gone...
Her readers glasses, toothpicks, salt, and mirror were sitting right beside the couch on her TV tray in the living room. Just waiting to be used.
So she couldn't really be gone....
If you turned on the TV, it was still set to Fox News.
So she couldn't really be gone....
Her notebook and pad were still sitting on the table, she was in the middle of makingRred Hat notes.
So she couldn't really be gone...
Her doctors appointment notes were still magnetic to the door.
I look around the rooms and so much of her remains.
I walk in and I take a deep breath and I smell her fragrance. Her lotions and fabric softener and Glade plug-ins that she had all around the house to make it smell pretty. Her smell was everywhere and it smelled so good.
I could still smell her so there's no way she could be gone....
I spent the last couple of weeks cleaning out her house. Giving things away to the grandkids, my brothers, Goodwill, and to the dump.
And now her house is empty of her.
Who she really was. What she did every day.
Where she sat, what she watched and where she cooked.
Can she really be gone?
Her smell is fading with her possessions no longer there. I have to breathe deeper each time I want to smell her.
How can she be. It breaks my heart. 💔
