1 month anniversary

October 19th was the 1 year anniversary of mom's passing. And life goes on. A soul left this earth to be with it's creator. And the earth is still spinning. And while I feel pain at times, loneliness at times, please understand that for the last year maybe two our communication was "What would you like for lunch?Would you like to go out? I will pay. What football game is on?" When I lived as a young lady in New Orleans at my parents' home, our conversations were a bit deeper than that. Almost teacher-student. Why do you think Cervantes wrote Don Quioxote as being a thin man and Sancho Panza as being a fat man? What a terrible existence it must have been for the patients in the Snakepit. And so forth. We also had many a discussion over grapes or strawberries. And I helped mom dust and wax and do clothes and sometimes cook. We eventually had conversation about Jesus, as when people left a tract at her door about how to get to heaven. And I saw her pause for the first time in her life. I made her think. And that meant more to me than any other time we talked. I reached into her soul and made her consider something she never thought of before, no matter how many times she'd heard the story. I made sense to her.

GONE AND YET NOT GONE

I finished donating mom's things today. The last of what needed to go. And all of a sudden, I felt this oneness come over me. I now have no mom or dad. I have truly been forced to grow up. And rely on myself. And not the kindness of strangers. I noticed that mom's legacy was paperwork and detailed at that, vacation and other special photos, special mementos from vacations, video tapes of vacations. And her fiesty spirit hidden under blankets of quietness. And that's what I love most of her and dad. Dad never gave up without a fight and neither did mom. No whining even when sick, and they didn't say anything like that to me but showed me in their strength of character. I am so blessed to have them both and intend to carry that legacy onward.

Moving on

So I have been slowly taking mom's affairs and giving away what I can, keeping what I think I might need or want, crying tears over a box labeled for me with memories of family trips.Bit by bit everything is getting cleared and all that is remaining are memories. I can look at various do-dads like small ashtrays, little photos, perfume bottles that were so old the perfume was concentrating to the bottom, and just think of mom and dad and events in my life that transpired to make those memories come alive. And then I ache. I will begin shredding her paper work soon and when that is done the physical vestige of Olga Guillot will be gone. I will give away her bible study books and the physical vestige of Olga Guillot will be gone. But I can look at the family picture and there she is...as though nothing happened. And as long as I remember and tell the stories of her life she will remain