It is a random, muddled thought process when you consider my Mom or my Auntie living amidst the massive quantities of stuff. I don’t dwell on it very often. It is full of twists and turns that challenges past decisions.
Others on the Team have remarked that they have become lost in this contemplation and found it depressing to dwell there long. As we uncover little vignettes of treasures and keepsakes, the real woman emerges. Whether at my Mom’s or recently at my Aunt’s there is a creeping imagery of loneliness and isolation. It sharply contrasts with what was, what promised to be.
The places, the hoarding places, seem to have an energy…a vibe. Focused upon the cleanup, the stuff, you are not aware of the vibe. Sitting alone, in the quiet, the eye wanders, the mind imagines, the reality of creeps in. Shy, isolated, purposely cut off. Unwilling, cowardly accomplices turned away, unable to fight the ongoing battle.
Now, the mind turns away from thinking about this too long. Easier to just marshal the drive to bend, stoop, lift, walk, sort, (just like they did thousands of times over) but with the intent of eliminating mountains, eliminating barriers….like they never did, until the very end.