Saying Goodbye is The Hardest

I’ve been so alone for the past week, packing up my Mom’s apartment, bit by bit. With each item, memories have been getting triggered, and I’ve had to quash them lest I be overcome. There’s been so much sorting to be done: to I keep this? Do I give it away? Is this in good enough condition to be sold for charity?

It’s been a slower process than I’d like, and it’s led to long days primarily on my feet, on low pile carpets, as this was a wheelchair accessible apartment. I ache in both body and mind, and all I want at this point is a hot bath in Epsom salt, hearing New Age music in the background, and perhaps that sweet voice saying, “Calgon, take me away…”

This should be me right now

My brother flew in last night and was dismayed by what he saw for two reasons: he’s not a seasoned moving warrior, like me—I’ve moved easily 50 times and probably more if I actually go and recount them, and 2) much of the “stuff” he saw laying about wasn’t leaving with us. The only real issues we had to face together were the collectibles that had to still be packed, which were small and delicate, and the rare books, which were quickly parsed out. Even so, packing those up took a few hours, and he and I had both already had long days—I doing my various task-switching, with organizing stacks, packing boxes, deep cleaning again, as my Mom had terrible psoriatic arthritis, and, sadly, there were flecks of skin everywhere and in everything. I know she was embarrassed by this, so I’m not trying to shame her or anyone whom has suffered with this illness by bringing this in the open, merely that I had to keep stopping to do so much cleaning due to the nature of what had occurred.

Because I’ve just been sitting around, you know, blogging

The apartment won’t be empty when we leave, which will also feel strange. I love this complex so much, I’m going to put myself on the (long) waiting list. I heard it’s 62+, though my Mom had told me it was 55+. I think she was thinking of her old condo complex, so that’s…boo. I find myself wishing I had a reason to come back here. While I do still have family in town and I’m going to work harder on staying close, a huge connection has been severed.

I thought I never loved Phoenix.

Published by auryaun

mystic • empath • musician • warrior • friend

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