Sooooo Much Stuff
And a slow road to cleaning house
Yesterday was the recording of my interview for Jennia D’Lima’s podcast Writing and Editing—the last planned event in my publicity campaign for A New Day. My mom, at 95, is still hanging in there, but I’d promised myself that when the months of active book promotion were done, I’d begin sorting through the house. (Especially the basement, where more than half the things down there are mine.)
When my mom was still mostly there mentally, I couldn’t throw out or donate any of her stuff. Now that dementia has made her less and less of herself, it’s both easier and harder.
In 2021, I wrote a short essay about her lovely dress clothes, and how the most I could do was move all the clothing from her closet and dresser to a large plastic bin from Home Depot. I knew she’d never wear them again, but I wasn’t ready to let them go.
In 2023, I winnowed those down, donating the more casual items, and fitting her fancy clothes—the diaphanous floral blouses and bespoke slacks—into a medium-sized suitcase I tucked away in the back of the closet now storing my boots and winter clothes.
But this past month, my mom has lost nearly all of her vision. Due to glaucoma and something called pseudo exfoliation, all she can detect is a general difference between light and dark. With added medication, there’s a chance some of her sight could return, but that chance is small.
I’m not any more ready to dispose of her things, but her loss of vision has made me sad enough, or simply too resigned, not to make a start.
You can find the essay mentioned above in my chapbook Giving Care.
“Between the Words—Crosstalk, Subtext, and Characterization in Dialogue,” was the subject of my podcast interview—I’ll let you know when the link goes live.
And, in case you’re wondering, I now dress my mom in silk camisoles, 100% cotton floral nightgowns that look like dresses, and colorful cardigans, along with cashmere leg warmers, fuzzy socks, and fleece slippers to fend against the cold of poor circulation to her feet.
That you render this so spectacularly makes the vision of your stylish mother — before and now — come vividly alive to me. I love her. And you.
This is beautiful. Thank you, Sue.