the finale

This weekend, my siblings and I cleaned out my parents home, dividing up items, taking truckloads to Goodwill, and cleaning. I did surprisingly well, not breaking down until early Sunday morning. I'll start at the beginning.

When my mother died, our family split. There were a lot of reasons - a cookbook that was taken, lies, jealousy. Three and three.

There have been downright nasty phone calls and letters. Many not speaking at all for the last 2 years. So I wasn't looking forward to Saturday at all. I prayed late Friday night for a good day Saturday. I wanted us to spend the day reminiscing and laughing. In my heart, I knew that was a slim possibility, but I was determined to try to guide it that way.

When one showed up, someone I've not spoken to since the funeral in 2006, I made a point of saying good morning. So did the others. I think that he realized our intent - not to continue this horrific feud, but to put it all behind us. When 8 came around, the time to start, one was no where to be found. So we started without him. He sauntered in at 8:30 and walked over to an antique table he helped our parents redo and said "I want this". When it was explained that we were each buying the large things, to go into the estate money (later divided), he informed us that he wouldn't be buying ANYTHING. So he didn't get it. And it ticked him off. The rest of us had a blast - over bidding each other, letting each other have things we knew were important, etc.

Everyone started to loosen up a bit when we got to the tables of stuff - that we took turns choosing. And honestly, in the end, everyone got lots of things they wanted to remember our folks by. Probably TOO much. 4 truckloads went to donations - and there is more to go. And we were able to (after all loosened up) to have a good day after all.

Saturday when I returned home, there was a "get well box" on my step from a dear, dear friend. I have a bad cold, and she sent me tissues, chicken soup, orange juice, some cocoa, 7up, and two little bottles of whiskey. In talking to her, she had intended brandy - for an old fashioned - but could only find the little whiskey. My mom's drink was a whiskey sour, something I've never tried. So I had one in her memory on Saturday night. Cheers!

Sunday was my mom's birthday. I was awake at 5 am, so I got up and started sorting through the boxes of things I'd gotten - trying to find places for things. I love having her dishes in my cupboard. I love seeing things that are from my childhood home in my own home. In the bottom of one of my boxes were things my eldest sister had deemed mine. Pictures, etc., that meant only to me. I found a book I'd given mom exactly 20 years ago on her birthday. I found a book I'd ask her to fill out with memories of her childhood. I found family tree papers from years ago. It was awesome. Then, I cried. It was time.