Tag Archives: end of life

End of Life Clutter Clearing: An Emotional Process

Mom and brother Mark overlooking the water view from Mom’s house.

I’m gearing up to clear out my mother’s house. My mom is adjusting well to her new home in Gayton Terrace, an assisted living facility near me in Richmond, VA. Now it’s time to take the next step, clear out Mom’s home in Kilmarnock, VA and get it ready to sell. It will be a big job, but I’m so lucky that my mom and her husband had only been living there for about 13 years and both regularly got rid of things. They were neat nicks and great purgers. Compared to what many people face when their parents leave their homes, this job will be a breeze–on the physical level.

What has surprised me are the waves of sadness I’ve experienced since I made the decision that it’s time to begin the big clean out. It wasn’t my family home. Yes, I’d had many nice visits there with Mom and John, and this last year with just Mom since John’s death last January. It’s a lovely home on the water. But the sadness has more to do with dismantling the physical remains of two lives that had been intertwined for 27 years. Mom and John had a deep love that begin in high school and reignited in their late 50s. They loved their life together and they loved their home.

Mom and John carefully tended their home, kept it neat, clean and organized. On one level–the physical level– that will make my job easier, but no less difficult on another–the emotional level. How will I do it? I will work hard to remember that what I’m doing will benefit my mother who needs to close this chapter of her life to be fully present to her new life in Richmond. I’ll keep in mind that Mom will also benefit from the funds generated from the sale of her home. I will also remember that I will benefit because I currently carry all the responsibility for the safety of the home, a home that is a 90 minute drive from my home. I need to have this chapter closed to better be able to focus on Mom and her needs and to have greater peace of mind.

But, it’s still sad. I will allow the sadness and enjoy the memories that emerge while I work to respectfully close the door on this chapter of my mother’s life.

Feng Shui Organizer Missing In Action

You may have noticed that I’ve been absent for the past four or five weeks from my weekly blog, newsletter and emails.  During the holiday season, it is common for most of us to become blitzed with too many obligations, with too much to do.  I suppose I’m no different; however I have been unable to keep up my usual posts and communications, not because of the holiday, but for what I believe to be a normal stage of life.  Normal, but utterly lonely and overwhelming.

My priorities shifted abruptly at the beginning of December and much of my normal life is on hold. On the 4th of December my step-father’s mental status took a turn for the worse, landing him first in the ER, then the hospital, then a rehabilitation and nursing facility, then the healthcare unit of a continuing care facility and finally home.

During that journey I learned that not only my step-father, but also my mother have dementia. Since Mom and John live 90 minutes away, my step-sister and I had to determine the best way to provide them both the care and safety they now need. My step-father’s dementia keeps him primarily unaware of the changes in his life. My mother’s cognitive impairment, however, is more challenging. Because she is more aware of what is going on, she has felt threatened at every turn by the our attempts to make sure she’s safe and has what she needs to stay happy and healthy. Dealing with dementia has been an education in patience, creativity and asking for help.

After spending time in almost all levels of care available to senior citizens, we discovered that a company called Visiting Angels could provide 24-hour in-home care for Mom and John. And, we have enlisted the services of Hospice of Virginia to help John make a peaceful transition from this life to the next. Mom and John are now able to be together in their peaceful home by the water with their cat, Harley.

I have had to do things I had hoped I’d never have to do, like take my mother’s car keys, request her doctor to officially determine that she is not competent to manage her affairs, drive and live independently. My life has felt like a tragic game of chess. Every time I think I’ve made the best plans and life will fall back in order, I’m led down a new path with a new problem to solve.

When exhaustion has threatened to take me under, I have somehow found the strength, guidance and assistance to keep going, guided by love and a commitment to do the right thing for Mom and John, whether they like it or not. There have been many lessons and many blessings.

I’ve learned that what I thought was best for my mother wasn’t. I’ve been blessed with a positive connection with a step-sister I hardly knew. She came to my rescue a number of times when I needed a kick-butt approach to make something happen. We’ve been blessed with help from Mom and John’s neighbors and friends, and the home care of the Visiting Angels and Hospice personnel has been outstanding. So many of my friends have taken time from their busy lives to let me know they miss me and send their supportive prayers. And, I’ve been blessed with an outpouring of love from Bob, my husband of 21 years. His appreciation of what I’ve been going through and how I’ve handled this trip through aging parent hell and his willingness to walk beside me through the difficult parts of this journey have kept me afloat numerous times when my little boat was at risk of going down from the weight of responsibility and turbulent emotions.

This is a journey I would never have willingly chosen. It has derailed me from my life and my business. I had the worst Christmas of my life. My feelings have ricocheted between profound sadness, fear, impotence, frustration, rage and numbness. I’m weary not only from the intensity of feelings I’ve been flying through and the physical demands of many trips back and forth to Kilmarnock, Virginia, but also from having to be the healthy, functioning “good brain” for Mom and John through this difficult transition.

This is my life right now.  I recall meaningful sayings from important places, such as, “One Day at a Time,” “This, Too Shall Pass,” and “Let Go, and Let God.”  I remember these sayings as I’m taking over management of Mom’s life and while I’m coordinating with my step-sister to arrange and maintain the best care for Mom and John.  We’re working hard to help them live with as much serenity and dignity as possible.

All this is to say that, for me, family is first.  I will not be able to be consistent with my online communications for some time.  But I will return when I can.  I long to return now.