I pop my key in the door and turn the lock. It opens with a click and I walk into the dim depths. The house that was always warm is now cold. I flick on a light and wrap my arms about myself. With a press of a button, I turn on the heatpump. Knowing that it will take a while for the heatpump to warm things up, I turn on the wall heater as well.
Nathan brings the children inside. Isaac is in his pram, complaining about the lack of mobility he has in there. Amy walks around the house getting into mischief.
The house is a mess. As I walk around, I pick things up and put them back down again. This doesn’t feel right. It’s not easy here.
The floor has gotten dusty. Nan would hate that. I poke at the dust with my foot, unable to muster the energy to find the broom and sweep.
We wait for Mum to arrive.
Boxes litter the floor. Empty, they are just waiting for things to fill them.
It’s not right that you can pack someone’s life into boxes after they are gone.
I take a deep breathe and pick a cupboard and a box. Chin up and head back, it needs to be done. There is no time for memories.
The scrape of gravel outside tells me a car has arrived. Mum. Amy is excited.
Nanny! Nanny! We are at MyNanny’s house!
Yes. We are.
Amy doesn’t quite understand the concept of death. She’s been told that MyNanny died, but she doesn’t understand what that means. She just knows that MyNanny is no longer here, in her house.
I know this too.
Mum and I look at each other, understanding without words. This is not easy for us, to work methodically through Nan’s house packing things up. It’s not a small job either.
Grab a garbage bag. We’ll do the closet.
Okay.
Vinnies*?
Yes.
Yes.
No. I’ll take that.
You sort, I’ll fold.
Okay.
It feels a little morbid as I pick items from Nan’s closet to go into mine. We’d talked about this, in the before. I knew that she wanted me to have her clothes that I would wear. Hell, I’d been borrowing her clothes since I was 10. It was what we did.
I take a deep breath and pick through.
Emptying clothes hangers.
One.
By.
One.
I stroke things. Remembering things I’d borrowed previously. Remembering things Nan used to wear often. Some things I can’t bear the thought of.
Vinnies. Please. I couldn’t wear it.
I know.
Okay.
It smells of Nan here still. In the silence, it almost feels like she is watching me. I know she is not. She swore she wouldn’t haunt her house and I believe that if she’s watching me, here is not the place to find her.
I’ll fall apart later. Not now, not here. Panic attacks when people are watching are awful.
Breathe. Just breathe.
Slowly we’re emptying things. Packing them up. Leaving them empty.
A person lived here once. Not anymore.
Here, there are just broken hearts and silence.
A lifetime, being packed into boxes and carted away.
***
*St Vincent de Paul Society. Second hand shops.
Oh sweetheart, you have captured the heartache perfectly.
I love you. Your Grandmother loved you and from wherever she is watching you, I know she is smiling her approval at the fine woman you have become.
So sad. So very sad.
I took my mum’s clothes when she died, only to find they didn’t fit well. Everything had the sleeves shortened because her arms were a little short, and all the fronts were overstretched from fitting over her large stomach for years, the knitwear was especially awful.
What a touching post! You have captured the mood carefully and with so much love for someone whom you adored and who clearly loved you with all heart. Strengh and love from South Africa!
Writing is such a gift for you, and must be a cathartic process for you now. Lots of love and hugs xx
So sad for you all. Big hugs for you, and your Mum, Veronica. I think that, hard though it may be, packing away your Nan’s things will help you with her loss. Actually, I quite envy you it as I know that when my Mum dies I won’t be there, or be able to go to her funeral, or do anything to help my youngest sister who will have the responsibility of packing away her life and our family home as I’m unable to travel back to the UK. So yes, what you are going through is heartbreaking but you were together to the end and are able to share this last rite for Nan with your Mum. It’s a sort of natural progression. Sorry, maybe none of that was appropriate but your grief and loss reminds me how every day brings mine a little closer.
I’m so proud of you for putting one foot in front of the other the way you are. Lots of love to you sweetheart. xxx
That’s one of the hardest jobs to do (((hugs))).
Hugs for you V. You have brought me to tears. I don’t know what else to say.
That’s hard. So hard. And each of us has a turn at this. The truly sad part about life, living and loving, is that it does, after all, come to an end, for all of us, each in our turn. It saddens me to know you feel such grief. It gladdens me, though, to know that soon you’ll be able to look back and celebrate her life with as much gusto as you now grieve for her loss. Hugs, Darling.
Oh ouch. 🙁
I felt that!
Your Nan is smiling right now. I know that in my heart.
You are a lovely soul Veronica. You truly are!
*sigh*
Just one room at a time. Hang in there.
It sucks. There is no way about it. It took me forever to pack my mom’s clothes up because I kept picking them up to smell them.
Wow, Veronica, that’s a beautiful piece of writing. You captured it really well. Sad. Sorry. Thanks for the explanations of “Vinnies” too – we have St.Vincent De Paul thrift shops, but never called it Vinnies – I’ll have to start, it’s much easier to say!
You know we all want to be there to help you and ease your burden, but alas, we cannot.
I’d wager every nickel I have that your Nan IS watching you. Your souls are connected on a deeper level than we could ever understand, and she isn’t leaving you now.
Oh! This post made my heart sink! So sad! 🙁 Sending hugs over your way. I know this isn’t easy for you guys. *hugs*
That must be a truly difficult thing to do. I’m so sorry. I think she probably is watching you – your connection was obviously extremely strong.
I just couldn’t do it. Simple as that, I couldn’t.
What a beautifully written emotive post.
So sad.
I’m so sorry.
I remember packing up my Grandmas things and my fathers and Will’s things. All very different feelings but still the same and you’ve described it so well.
Life packed into boxes is weird and wrong.
I’m so heartbroken for you all. I hope that this will help to heal – keeping MyNanny’s things closer to you.
What a beautiful post. I can only hope that my grandchildren love me as much as you love your Nan.
What a beautifully written and heart wrenching post. It’s clear how much you all love one another.
There are so many things that a person can leave behind, often you can forget just how many posessions a person can have, even people who dont have a lot still have something. The little things, like toothbrush or a pair of shoes sometimes are the hardest to get rid of. It’s nice that you can keep some of your nan’s clothes to wear, it’s nice to get some practical use out of things, I reckon she would appreciate that. I would hate to think of my things being thrown out when they could be used. Vinnies is an excellent idea as well.
Glad you’re getting it done, even though it was hard.
(((HUGS)))
Such a sad, but beautifully written post.
Im so sorry for the loss of your nan , you capture grief so perfectly with your words…i hope time is a good healer for you
((hugs))
I’ve been there, cleaning out someone else’s life. Not easy. So very sad.
A big gentle internet hug from the UK just for you.
Oh, V. My heart aches for you and my tears well up reading this.
You wrote it beautifully, as you always do. But damn, I am sorry. So sorry, always.
`L
big hugs hun
thinking of you
am here if ya need..
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