I got a call from a long time friend yesterday. She wants me to come by and list her mother's home, a home her mom and dad have lived in for years. Dad passed away a little over a year ago and her mom is moving to an assisted living facility here in southwest Missouri. Her health is still good but her mind is slipping a bit.
When I stopped by, most of the furniture had been removed but there were boxes upon boxes of knick- knacks and figurines that had been acquired over the years as birthday and Christmas presents as well as from trips the mother had taken. Needless to say there's not enough room in the new home and the daughters don't want them.
The mother of course thinks there is great wealth in the stuff the girls are wanting to be rid of. As they pack, she pulls out. A life time of memories being packed to ship to????? They're not sure yet.
And of course it made me think of my own mother. I can't imagine her not being the rock she has always been for me. One of the hardest working women I've ever met, I dread the day when I must pack her stuff and decide what to keep and what to call the antique dealer about. Luckily she's still young enough that it's still a long way off, but life goes so fast that before I know it my own sons will be doing the same with me. I don't want to think about that either, but all I've got to say is they better not just throw away my shoe collection. Now that would really hurt.
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