My mother had been cleaning

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My mother had been cleaning

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It just is. This cleaning out is YOUR job, it just is. Stop judging. Stop it! Your stuff is your stuff, and you have every right to keep it.

You will never stop missing your parents. You will always be their child. My friend Stella was 95 when she died.

She had no children, so I kind of became her daughter. I was the executrix of her estate. Her home was filled with antiques, thing she frequently reminded me were valuable.

After Stella died, her cousin did want the furniture and the jewelry and the paintings. I had an appraiser come in to assess the value of the antique furniture.

But to Stella, it was valuable and she liked it. We donated almost all of Mrs. Vincent de Paul. We scheduled the pick up, and that day they called with a one-hour window.

They arrived on time and worked efficiently. They took almost everything! In the basement there was a dishwasher, 2 army footlockers, an exercise bike, several rusty cabinets, and boxes and boxes and more boxes of dishes, silverware, coffee carafes, ash trays, trophies.

The garage had a mountain of garbage bags, tools, and small appliances. GOTJUNK arrived on time, concluded that they would fill two trucks, and in about an hour and a half, cleaned out the house.

Related Posts:. You Found What in the Cake? Homage to an Indifferent Cook, My Mom. Bedtime Stories With Mom.

To see all posts, return to archives. Before we moved my mother-in-law to an assisted living apartment, we ask her if she wanted to help clean out the attic.

We laughed and cried over things she kept. Most of all we just miss her now that she has died. So much sentiment and meaning can be tied up in the things we save.

And as much work as it is for those cleaning out the homes, you remind us clearly of the emotional reward that is there—if we will accept it—as we work intimately with what was left behind.

What a good reminder to me, too. Oh, the mystery hide-from-the-company bags! Thanks for reading and responding.

Good seeing you the other day. My 3 siblings and I were summoned to help with the move. On the 1st day we took 35 boxes to the Salvation Army store.

My father had collections of things that dated farther back than the last century. It seems his 2nd and 3rd wives also had a need to surround themselves with their beloved keepsakes.

My father died last year at age 94, a little over a year from the time he made the his last transition from his home to the residence.

He is survived by his 3rd wife who rents a storage unit to hold the overflow of the possessions she is unable to part with. We found brand new shirts and ties, undergarments and socks, new slippers, sweaters, vests and trousers, that had never been worn — gifts we had given him over the last few years of his life.

Untouched and stored out of sight. In full view were the thread-bare cardigans, the slippers worn through from years of shuffling, the old cane with a worn out rubber tip.

The familiar. Personal letters to each one of them letting them know how much they are loved and how proud we are of each one of them.

Words filled with hope and blessing for their futures. What a beautiful response! Thanks so much for reading and responding.

Your words are treasures to me. I love the idea of writing personal letters for the kids to discover. I keep thinking I need to get rid of so many things—my own as well as the sentimental treasures I inherited when mom and dad died.

Not even photos of themselves. Your piece touched my heart. But I need to go to the basement and purge. My kids will not look upon this task as kindly and with the interest as you did.

How did I miss this one? His wife please, God, may there be one soon will have to wrestle him to the ground to keep him from moving the entire contents of my home into the basement of his own.

This is a very interesting and emotional read, thank you for sharing this. Since she has tons of stuff, I think working with a professional in house cleaning after death is a great idea.

What do you think? This has been a very insightful and helpful site. She kept things in such excellent condition.

I have tried to put dishes etc. I am on my own, and never had children. I even have the dress she wore to my wedding, so very many years ago.

Any suggestions, how I can deal with this situation. The idea of writing letters to your children is so kind and thoughtful.

After my mother died, I looked everywhere, in every box and drawer hoping she had left me a letter. It would have helped me through a very difficult time of grief.

I had never pictured my elderly mother in a black velour sweatsuit with blingy sparkles, but it looked comfortable enough.

Ramona made her fresh eggnog in the mornings, and for dinner, oxtail stew. It was sometimes almost impossibly hard. My mother had spells where her blood pressure would drop and she would nearly pass out.

She had so many hospital stays we lost count. Then the infections started. Clostridium difficile gave her weeks of diarrhea. Every month we had to re-evaluate whether we could keep this arrangement going.

MY parents had never made a lot of money. But in what now seems like an outdated practice, they had slowly, over decades, socked some money away.

It was staggering how quickly it went. We sold my childhood home and much of that money went to her care. We sold her treasured violin at auction.

That was all spent too. They worked as a team, always in contact by cellphone. When Ramona needed to sleep or wanted to go to church, someone else took over.

When the C. When she needed to be lifted to or from the wheelchair, Clay or Adrian would pick her up in their arms.

In another week it would have been spring. Ramona said she saw signs: My mother would throw the bedcovers off and try to get out of bed.

She said she was leaving, that she had somewhere to go. She said her own mother was waiting for her somewhere. Pneumonia sent her to the hospital, and then there was heart and kidney failure too.

On March 14 we were there in the room in the I. My sister, my brother, and I. Ramona and her family wept along with the rest of us as my mother died.

Two days later we went to visit Ramona and her family in the apartment where my mother had lived with them.

Ramona had not been able to sleep or eat, and she was still crying.

The garage had a mountain of garbage bags, tools, and small appliances. GOTJUNK arrived on time, concluded that they would fill two trucks, and in about an hour and a half, cleaned out the house.

Related Posts:. You Found What in the Cake? Homage to an Indifferent Cook, My Mom. Bedtime Stories With Mom. To see all posts, return to archives.

Before we moved my mother-in-law to an assisted living apartment, we ask her if she wanted to help clean out the attic. We laughed and cried over things she kept.

Most of all we just miss her now that she has died. So much sentiment and meaning can be tied up in the things we save. And as much work as it is for those cleaning out the homes, you remind us clearly of the emotional reward that is there—if we will accept it—as we work intimately with what was left behind.

What a good reminder to me, too. Oh, the mystery hide-from-the-company bags! Thanks for reading and responding. Good seeing you the other day.

My 3 siblings and I were summoned to help with the move. On the 1st day we took 35 boxes to the Salvation Army store.

My father had collections of things that dated farther back than the last century. It seems his 2nd and 3rd wives also had a need to surround themselves with their beloved keepsakes.

My father died last year at age 94, a little over a year from the time he made the his last transition from his home to the residence. He is survived by his 3rd wife who rents a storage unit to hold the overflow of the possessions she is unable to part with.

We found brand new shirts and ties, undergarments and socks, new slippers, sweaters, vests and trousers, that had never been worn — gifts we had given him over the last few years of his life.

Untouched and stored out of sight. In full view were the thread-bare cardigans, the slippers worn through from years of shuffling, the old cane with a worn out rubber tip.

The familiar. Personal letters to each one of them letting them know how much they are loved and how proud we are of each one of them.

Words filled with hope and blessing for their futures. What a beautiful response! Thanks so much for reading and responding. Your words are treasures to me.

I love the idea of writing personal letters for the kids to discover. I keep thinking I need to get rid of so many things—my own as well as the sentimental treasures I inherited when mom and dad died.

Not even photos of themselves. Your piece touched my heart. But I need to go to the basement and purge. My kids will not look upon this task as kindly and with the interest as you did.

How did I miss this one? His wife please, God, may there be one soon will have to wrestle him to the ground to keep him from moving the entire contents of my home into the basement of his own.

This is a very interesting and emotional read, thank you for sharing this. Since she has tons of stuff, I think working with a professional in house cleaning after death is a great idea.

What do you think? This has been a very insightful and helpful site. She kept things in such excellent condition. I have tried to put dishes etc.

I am on my own, and never had children. I even have the dress she wore to my wedding, so very many years ago. Any suggestions, how I can deal with this situation.

The idea of writing letters to your children is so kind and thoughtful. After my mother died, I looked everywhere, in every box and drawer hoping she had left me a letter.

It would have helped me through a very difficult time of grief. When my parents moved to an assisted living home; they helped with some of the clean up.

Then my brother and I did most of the rest. My daughter decided to rent the house and since my parents had watched her most of her life while I worked; it was home to her.

She kept some things and lived among the others. Finally it came time to clean the house out and sell it. Took us about 2 months!!. We had to open everything.

Took the items to sell to their warehouse. Online bidding. They do take a percentage; but we got a check in the end and everything is gone except what we wanted.

Very hard to do. I kept almost nothing. It is, after all, junk. I was sick about it, just because it had meant so much to my mother and I had basically just thrown it away.

Your email address will not be published. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed. I learned a lot from this experience, beyond the physical limitations of my year-old body.

To show our love? To assuage our guilt for not calling enough? Ramona made her fresh eggnog in the mornings, and for dinner, oxtail stew.

It was sometimes almost impossibly hard. My mother had spells where her blood pressure would drop and she would nearly pass out.

She had so many hospital stays we lost count. Then the infections started. Clostridium difficile gave her weeks of diarrhea. Every month we had to re-evaluate whether we could keep this arrangement going.

MY parents had never made a lot of money. But in what now seems like an outdated practice, they had slowly, over decades, socked some money away.

It was staggering how quickly it went. We sold my childhood home and much of that money went to her care. We sold her treasured violin at auction.

That was all spent too. They worked as a team, always in contact by cellphone. When Ramona needed to sleep or wanted to go to church, someone else took over.

When the C. When she needed to be lifted to or from the wheelchair, Clay or Adrian would pick her up in their arms. In another week it would have been spring.

Ramona said she saw signs: My mother would throw the bedcovers off and try to get out of bed. She said she was leaving, that she had somewhere to go.

She said her own mother was waiting for her somewhere. Pneumonia sent her to the hospital, and then there was heart and kidney failure too. On March 14 we were there in the room in the I.

My sister, my brother, and I. Ramona and her family wept along with the rest of us as my mother died. Two days later we went to visit Ramona and her family in the apartment where my mother had lived with them.

Ramona had not been able to sleep or eat, and she was still crying. We all were.

My mother had been cleaning

My Mother Had Been Cleaning Video

George Michael - My Mother Had A Brother

My Mother Had Been Cleaning Video

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