that I could scream, spit, throw things, kick. Basically throw an all out throw down tantrum. But I wont. Ill just go in my room, call Luke, sob hysterically, he'll try to understand me through my hiccupping and loud bursts of tears. Then he'll talk me down and I'll figure out some way to mellow out to try to fall asleep before my sub job tomorrow.
My dad doesn't like stuff. Particularly stuff that's not his. He calls it junk. "What do you want me to do with this junk?" he says. He usually says this when hes moving it. Not because you asked him to but because he wants it out of his way. He doesn't want to see it. A mess is something you can see. If it's stuffed into a box, or into a drawer he doesn't have to look at, it's not a mess.
This has become an increasing larger issue because much of mom's stuff he has no use for. Therefore, it is junk. Get rid of it is his new mantra.
Only thing is, some of these things are things Valerie and I still use on a regular basis, have particularly fond memories of, and hope to use someday. Some of these things weren't even moms. Like the potted plants I grew from cuttings almost 8 years ago. The fact that they're even still alive is an incredible feat. I let my mom take them to her class sometimes for the school year but they'd come home and were still mine. My dad gave them away to my moms' caretaker. I didn't even know until the dust had settled after mom's service on Easter Sunday. He has yet to get them back.
Then there's the Tupperware. Mom had a set of 10 large Tupperware bowls. Great for pancake mix or fruit salad in the fridge. Especially great for cooking in the classroom. Which I do. I use the bowls at least once a quarter. Yep those were gone to.
Knowing that things are moving, disappearing, going places. It sets in a sense of panic. Here is my life as I've known it...home, found in not necessarily the architecture...and its changing. Faster than I can turn around. I was prepared for things to be different as far as not having mom physically here, but this is taking things to a whole 'nother level.
Part of me knows we cant take things with us to heaven so what does it matter, but maybe the things that have been left behind are reminders to help our family who is left behind. No. We DONT have to keep all of these things. We DO need to be considerate of those who DO want things.
Throwing everything away will "piss people off" and make them estranged relatives rather than loved ones. Saying "I'll put it in a box in the garage and you can have what you want" does not promote a healthy attitude of truly assessing and saying do I really want this.
When I see my dad getting rid of things I panic and say that I want it all. When I go through it I get rid of more than I thought I would.
Today was a pretty good day. Dad and I had lunch, I came home did some organizing in my room, getting rid of things, packing. Dad and I went to the gym, and even got him some new pans. We come home he gets out his pans, great he can use his pans, wash them in the dishwasher (he loooooves running the dishwasher and these are dishwasher safe) and put them away. I go to meet Val and a friend for appetizers. We come home and he's got a box in the kitchen. And the cupboards with the things we use when people come over are empty. Everything is on the counter. Other things are in the box. Panic takes over.
He told me today how he got rid of one pan that we've ALWAY made mashed potatoes in. Fine. Whatever. He tells me that he got rid of a bunch of "old cans of food that we never use." He got rid of pumpkin people. Hellloooooo pumpkin shortage this year. We were saving it for the pumpkin pecan dessert my mom loved. Still okay. I can deal. But when I see all the pretty colored aluminum cups on the counter right next to that box. And the mini HAVILAND saucers right there with them. We're talking OLD bone china.
Let me just say, that panic does not make a girl rational. Panic does not make a girl say "okay, Ill just pack up what I want." Panic makes me scream and cry and want to put it all in a box where he cant touch it. I can stand guard and label it Jessica's Don't Throw Away. THEN it will be safe and Ill have it. No one else. But really what then is the benefit? And really....packing all these things up for what? To leave in the garage that he wants empty? To leave while Luke and I traipse around the country doing golf stuff for who knows how long? Old things, sentimental family items are meant for a home. A home with memories. A home that you come back to. A home that is the center of the family.
Argh, make the panic go away. Make me rational enough to pack everything up sensibly. Make me effective enough to do it quickly. Make it not hurt.
So. In response to his questions at the end of his blog titled "Dead Woman Talking" when he asks
Was God sending me a message? Was Sue? Was my mind just working to resolve my own internal conflicts? Bruce woke up shortly afterward, at 5 a.m. (8 a.m. his usual time zone) and we discussed the dreams a bit. I have an idea what I think about them, but would be interested to hear what some of you think.
I say it was your brain. Telling you its okay to get rid of things because that's what you want to hear. Our brains use sleeping time to file things that happen during the day. To file our thoughts and ideas. If it is a message it is not "sure, go throw everything away. Get rid of it all." Mom would never have instigated so much stress and tension.
