The Dorm

This past week, I was afforded the unexpected opportunity to spend a week at my parent's house - alone. For a couple of weeks after her passing, I stuck around and with combined efforts of my brothers and sisters-in-law, LOTS of cleaning took place. Then, as I've been home, my SIL, Kacie, had finished up the majority of work. But, there were still a few areas to be attacked - the basement (my dad's office and a small apartment-type space), the shop (Darrell's work garage), the attic (OH the dreaded attic. We collectively cleaned it about 4 years ago and promised my mother that the only time we would tackle that again would be in the cleaning of the estate. That place was AWFUL.), and the dorm (the room upstairs that is filled with beds for all the grandbabies, the toy closet, and a TV with who-even-knows-how-many gaming systems and DVDs - grandchild paradise!). I also wanted to make a second sweep with a fine-tooth comb through every single area of the house - just to make 100% positive that we didn't miss anything. Our plan is to turn it over to the estate auctioneer in the next couple of weeks and we have to have EVERYTHING out that we want to keep before then. Those of you that know my momma, know how much of a task this has been. It has been a joke for years about how much of a mess she was going to leave us in! Not in a "it's time to call TLC Hoarders" type of mess, but more of an "I have an obsession with pretty stuff and can't fill my house full enough" way. Plus, every single report card, concert program, newspaper clipping, greeting card, etc....since my dad's high school graduation in 1958 had been kept. Now some of those memories were fun to relive, but touching every.single.item in the house twice to ensure we weren't leaving behind a treasure was a teensy bit overwhelming.


Each room held it's own great memories, priceless finds, and heartbreaking moments. Let's start with my bedroom....I had never cleaned it out from when I lived there in high school. There were baby gifts and memorabilia from when I was born. There were probably 10 huge picture collages that were all-the-rage when I was in junior high and high school. There was the cassette tape collection that included the full gamut - classic Milli Vanilli and every church musical practice tape I'd ever sang in. I went through my jewelry boxes from junior high and brought back way too much stuff that I anticipate Annabelle being ecstatic about. There were the memories of girlfriend sleepovers and the time we snuck out to "wrap" some of the boy's houses.  I replayed so many heartfelt talks between me and my mom held there. And finally, the weekend that I will never forget - when Brad and I first came to visit as a married couple and he was actually allowed into my room with the door shut. Awkward!! :) This room took a while.

Then, there was the kitchen - the place where my mom could be found first thing in the morning and long after everyone else had gone to bed. The room where she poured love and devotion into our family by planning and preparing some of the most wonderful meals I will ever eat. THANK GOD that she had a few cooked and frozen. I have never eaten so slowly and appreciated and savored every bite like I did last week. I brought home a chicken and dressing - I don't know when I'll have the heart to cook it.

My dad's office held great and challenging things, as well. A lot of that had been cleaned out previously, but his storage room still held so much of him. Scrap paper where he had scribbled out financial advise to my mom that she was to follow should he die.  "Keep" pile. Copies of his resume that was proof of his hard work and unwavering devotion to our family and to those around him. Letters that past students and clients had written to him about how he changed their lives with his wise counsel. And, a copy of his diagnosis of myelofibrosis that changed our lives forever. "Toss" pile.

And then, there was the dorm. I'm not sure why, but it got put off until the very end. I think maybe it didn't seem like it would be that hard. There weren't a lot of drawers to clean out, etc...and it just seemed like it would be a pretty easy one to tackle. So I put it off until Friday - my last day alone. I was already pretty emotional and "weepy" as I knew my time was coming to an end. But walking into this room pushed me completely and totally over the edge. This room was all about her grandbabies. They would spend hours in here digging through the endless collection of random costumes that Grandmama bought after every Halloween when they were 75% off. They would run downstairs to show off to us and then outside to play. There were countless tournaments played on those video games. There was also the occasional wrestling match that would come to an end when someone would scream loud enough for it to be heard downstairs....OH the fun times had in that room! After every visit, you could guarantee that it would be "tee-totally" (Carol Sue phrase) turned upside down, and with a few shuffles of stuff from here to there and stuffing some of the costumes underneath one of the 4 beds, Grandmama would proudly proclaim they had done a great job cleaning up :) Here I am, 31 years old, and full of wonderful memories and stories and confirmation of how much my parents loved me. I can not stand the thought of those precious grandbabies not fully knowing what they lost on June 26, 2005, and August 1, 2012. Some of them will remember. Kyler is 19, Guy is 15, Isaac is 12, Luke is 10, Rhett is 9, Annabelle is 7, Nate is 6, and Harris is 2. He's not going to know. Yes, he knows right now, and I will continue to talk about her and tell him stories and show him pictures. But he's not going to KNOW. Annabelle and mom had a special relationship. They loved to shop and loved any and everything girly and sparkly. Those 2 were a pair! This room represented to me time stolen, memories not yet made, and the unbelievable task that my brother's and I have to keep our parents' legacy alive in these children that they loved so dearly.  It also signified that my job was done.  My obligation to be more than thourough in this process that I felt I owed my mother was finished.  I didn't want to be doing this job, but I certainly didn't want it to be over.

So like I've said before, grief is so unpredictable. I had myself prepared for the kitchen. I knew that seeing her stack of mixing bowls that she received as wedding gifts in 1961 was going to be hard. I knew that cleaning out my closet and having to think of a new place for my wedding dress (something that I feel is just supposed to be housed at your momma's house) was going to be a challenge. But that dorm. The room that I can easily say that I've spent the least amount of time in snuck up and got me. This may sound strange, but in that moment, I didn't pray for strength. I wanted to feel it...every emotion. Knowing that those were my final hours in the house that I love so dearly - the house that holds so many countless memories of my parents and all the things that they loved - the house that my kids beg to go visit and cry when it's time to leave - the house that my momma lovingly referred to as her "cancer house" because after years of nagging asking my dad to move from the home they built in 1969, he finally bought it for her after she beat breast cancer in 1995, I just needed to mourn that loss.

THANK GOD I had the whole week to myself. I cleaned; I cried; I sat and stared out the windows; I laid in my bed and focused on the sound of the ceiling fan in my bedroom; I took one last two hour bath in their jacuzzi; I stood in the center of each room and took panoramic pictures so I wouldn't forget one single detail; I stayed up til 3 or 4am every night working and piddling through priceless memories; I cooked one final meal in her kitchen; I SOAKED IT IN.

It was a good week.  It was a tough week.  It was gut-wrenching packing up to leave before daylight the same way we have so many times over the past 9 years. Stuffing my ice chest full of frozen purple hull peas and my Granny's recipe of sweet creamed corn that she just taught me to make in June seemed a lot more bitter than sweet this time.

When I got home, I turned my Cary Collins Calendar over to September.  The verse for the month is 2 Corinthians 12:9 - "But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."

THANK GOD for His grace and power that gave me and got me through last week.  God is so good.