Clump #58: Take random items to post office and send to older daughter.
The weather here has made fall achingly beautiful so far. On the phone with my older daughter today, I mentioned that I recently told my mom, “I wish it would go on forever,” to which my mom wisely replied, “Then we wouldn’t appreciate it.”
This reminded my daughter of a quote from the series Battlestar Galactica, which I looked up: (Spoken by the leader of the rebel Cylons) “In our civil war, we’ve seen death. We’ve watched people die. Gone forever. As terrible as it was beyond the reach of the Resurrection ships, something began to change. We could feel a sense of time, as if each moment held its own significance. We began to realize that for our existence to hold any value, it must end. To live meaningful lives, we must die and not return. The one human flaw that you spend your life distressing over … Mortality is the one thing … Well, it’s the one thing that makes you whole.” I haven’t watched Battlestar, but that quote really spoke to my mood and preoccupation.
I sent this same daughter a package with a few thing I’ve been meaning to get to her for way too long. I included my dad’s old — vintage — warm-up suit to give to a good friend of hers. This is truly the last of the parent-clothes to release. A weight is lifted.
I gave a Reiki treatment to a good friend and was richly rewarded with tea in her beautiful garden.
I couldn’t resist taking pictures of the roses by a stone shed. Don’t we appreciate late September roses more because we know their season is almost over?
Clump #57: Bring last of parents’ clothes to Goodwill.
I took this picture of a maple tree yesterday while sitting outside with my mom. I was thinking that soon all those green leaves will be changing color and falling. The theme of mortality seems never far from my mind as I contend with the last few piles of my parents’ belongings on my 30-day, 30-clump, 30-post challenge.
I plucked this one leaf, already beginning to change color, the way I once was able to pluck one grey hair from my head and say, I’m young again!
I apologize for sounding like Debbie Downer! I thought bringing a couple of bags of clothes to the Goodwill would be an easy clump. Something of the essence of a person remains on those well-worn items. More than just smell.
I had been saving my mom’s mink stole and a fur trimmed jacket for our high school’s theater department. When the new costume director finally emailed, she said they were starting to purge their collection. The nerve of them purging while I’m purging! Here’s a photo of my parents with the jacket:
I also brought a bag of my dad’s clothes I had held aside for my older daughter to pick through for something she could wear. This is a tuxedo my mom snagged from “The Barter Bar,” a used clothing exchange where she had volunteered. She and my dad would go to fancy events and get such a kick out of the Barter Bar tux bought for a pittance. I hope someone else will have the same delight.
I came home with two of my dad’s hats I had planned to give away. I wasn’t strong enough. Maybe my son might someday want to wear them. In the meantime, they are on the shelf in the hall coat closet with the whisk broom that used to reside in the coat closet of my youth. (Does anyone brush off their clothes anymore … outside of Downton Abbey?)
The beautiful sky today lifted my spirits. This view seemed to confirm the rightness of winnowing down.