{"id":1841,"date":"2023-09-08T19:17:03","date_gmt":"2023-09-08T19:17:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/anthonykalberg.com\/?p=1841"},"modified":"2023-09-08T19:17:53","modified_gmt":"2023-09-08T19:17:53","slug":"dispatches-from-home-saying-goodbye-to-mom-may-31-2019","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/anthonykalberg.com\/2023\/09\/08\/dispatches-from-home-saying-goodbye-to-mom-may-31-2019\/","title":{"rendered":"DISPATCHES FROM HOME – Saying Goodbye To Mom. May 31 2019"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
Death is multifaceted. After a loved one passes away, first comes the pain of loss, the tears, the funeral, the closing of the casket, and the cemetery. Not long after, though, the business side of death comes calling. The will\u2019s read, banks, and financial institutions are contacted, death certificates sent. After days, or weeks, or perhaps months, the last facet of death must be addressed–the disposing of a loved one\u2019s personal effects. For me, this has been the hardest. I\u2019ve been laboriously sifting through closets, prying opened locked suitcases–their keys long lost–and rummaging through boxes so old that the masking tape, which once sealed them years ago, is now brittle with age. I now know how Howard Carter felt when he trepidatiously pushed a lighted candle through a hole in the sealed door of King Tut\u2019s tomb. What do you see, he was asked? Wondrous things! <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I too have discovered fascinating things! My mother wasn\u2019t a pack-rat, as the old-timers say. She just kept things safe in case they were ever needed to prove a point or to fulfill a need. Hence, I found fifty-year-old bank statements, utility bills, insurance bills, to name a few. She also kept meticulous ledgers, writing down in her beautiful hand every dollar spent, on what and where–a child of the Great Depression she most surely was! She also wrote now-funny little notes to herself. A $17.56 monthly power bill elicited this response: Too much! Frank\u2019s gotta turn of more lights. An increase in the monthly car gas bill caused a stir. What are we going to do when gas goes to forty-five cents a gallon? She also remarked on bittersweet things. A 1964 ledger entry for one-hundred dollars indicated it was to help defray a relative\u2019s funeral expenses. Mother wrote out to the side: Frank and I need to make our own funeral arrangements with Riemann\u2019s, so Andy won\u2019t have to worry. And that they did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Bundling up Mother\u2019s beautiful clothes was a chore that took several days. I would bundle, reminisce, tear-up, and stop. The textures of silk and velvet reminded me of her soft hands; the smell of Habanita perfume to evocative. When I pulled the car around to the Goodwill drop off sight, a functionary wearing a drab outfit and sporting a gaped tooth met me at the door. I gently handed Mother\u2019s clothes\u2014still cleaned and pressed, sorta via color and style\u2014to the lady who abruptly threw them into a dirty clothes bin. That it, she asked. Yes, I said. She didn\u2019t even say thank-you as she waddled off. I couldn\u2019t get into the car fast enough. I could hardly drive for the tears. I drove to the beach, parked, and sat looking out across the Gulf\u2019s tawny-brown waters. I know in my heart of hearts that Mother would have wanted me to do exactly what I had done, just as she had done with Daddy\u2019s clothes when God called him Home. But it conjured such finality–an irreversible ending. Thankfully, this trial is behind me. Life goes forward and so shall I. I\u2019ve discovered other little tantalizing family tidbits too but will report those later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
![\"No](\"https:\/\/anthonykalberg.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/09\/image-11.jpeg\")
<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n