What is Normal?
When I emailed my list serve the morning I announced my mother's passing, I told them that my journey on the daughter track had ended.
What I should have realized even then was that it had only changed. Mom might be gone, but her bills, her apartment, her utilities and remnants of her life remained.
I had in effect, put on hold the daily routines of our lives when it was apparent that Mom wouldn't beat this latest health crisis as the others had been whipped. My husband and I ate fast food and from the hospital cafeteria, only coffee cups and a few spoons littered our kitchen sink. My dogs lay patiently by the windows waiting for some type of normal routine to take over again. The bills that were due got paid, the rest hung in our bill board, a crafty creation Mom made. Laundry piled high in our spare bedroom and the light on the phone indicating messages continuously blinked and were left unreturned.
When Mom left this world 12 days ago, a soup bowl sat in her kitchen sink, her last pot of coffee aged in her table-side thermos, neglected plants sat wilting and mail that didn't need immediate attention littered her sofa table. All reminders that five weeks before I had talked her into going to see the doctor and from there, he talked her into the hospital.
Remnants of both of our lives lie waiting for us to return in our respective homes.
It took us five days to clear Mom's apartment of her life. My aunt pitched the soup bowl and its fowl water. I took home and stored quite a bit, not yet able to rid my life of some of the things she loved. I distributed what she had on a list according to her wishes in her will.
We sold the rest.
Since Monday, I've been trying now to restore some type of order - some sense of normal - to our own house. Some things were easy. The dogs made some things simple, like our morning feeding and treat routines. Some have taken me days - that pile of laundry never did wash itself. Others I still haven't had the courage to face such as the mounting pile of bills (it's hard when you haven't been working full time for more than 4 weeks to open those envelopes). And we continue to work on other things. We're still eating what we have cooked or warmed up here on paper plates a friend brought when he brought some food over. We finally went to the grocery store yesterday and I planned a week's worth of meals at home. Other things involve getting used to what I won't be doing anymore: calling my mom every morning at 10:30 to make sure she was ok and ready for another day; taking her dinner over to her apartment, greeting familiar faces in the lobby and then chatting about her day and the day's news (yesterdays Libby trial would have been a biggie) or watching "24" with her, or calling her after the show if I wasn't there.
These are the first words I've written since her obituary. I took one writing assignment this week, maybe just to prove to myself I could.
Getting back to routine when something so out of routine has occured is not easy.
What I should have realized even then was that it had only changed. Mom might be gone, but her bills, her apartment, her utilities and remnants of her life remained.
I had in effect, put on hold the daily routines of our lives when it was apparent that Mom wouldn't beat this latest health crisis as the others had been whipped. My husband and I ate fast food and from the hospital cafeteria, only coffee cups and a few spoons littered our kitchen sink. My dogs lay patiently by the windows waiting for some type of normal routine to take over again. The bills that were due got paid, the rest hung in our bill board, a crafty creation Mom made. Laundry piled high in our spare bedroom and the light on the phone indicating messages continuously blinked and were left unreturned.
When Mom left this world 12 days ago, a soup bowl sat in her kitchen sink, her last pot of coffee aged in her table-side thermos, neglected plants sat wilting and mail that didn't need immediate attention littered her sofa table. All reminders that five weeks before I had talked her into going to see the doctor and from there, he talked her into the hospital.
Remnants of both of our lives lie waiting for us to return in our respective homes.
It took us five days to clear Mom's apartment of her life. My aunt pitched the soup bowl and its fowl water. I took home and stored quite a bit, not yet able to rid my life of some of the things she loved. I distributed what she had on a list according to her wishes in her will.
We sold the rest.
Since Monday, I've been trying now to restore some type of order - some sense of normal - to our own house. Some things were easy. The dogs made some things simple, like our morning feeding and treat routines. Some have taken me days - that pile of laundry never did wash itself. Others I still haven't had the courage to face such as the mounting pile of bills (it's hard when you haven't been working full time for more than 4 weeks to open those envelopes). And we continue to work on other things. We're still eating what we have cooked or warmed up here on paper plates a friend brought when he brought some food over. We finally went to the grocery store yesterday and I planned a week's worth of meals at home. Other things involve getting used to what I won't be doing anymore: calling my mom every morning at 10:30 to make sure she was ok and ready for another day; taking her dinner over to her apartment, greeting familiar faces in the lobby and then chatting about her day and the day's news (yesterdays Libby trial would have been a biggie) or watching "24" with her, or calling her after the show if I wasn't there.
These are the first words I've written since her obituary. I took one writing assignment this week, maybe just to prove to myself I could.
Getting back to routine when something so out of routine has occured is not easy.
posted by Kerri Fivecoat-Campbell at 6:37 AM
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