I’ve been thinking a lot about things lately.
One of the ways I’m gauging Mom’s condition – her position on her path, so to speak – is her concern for material things.
A month or so ago, when she first got her prognosis, she was invested in going through her possessions; she wanted me to locate and set aside certain items to be given to people she cares about. I’ve bought plastic boxes and have corralled out the things Mom wants to give away; purses for the girls, a tea set for one of her sisters and a fancy desk tray for the other, a book for her daughter-in-law’s brother, that sort of thing.
Lately, though, she’s not given a thought to her things. Whether that’s because she’s hit all the important things (and people) or because she trusts her son and me with her things I don’t know, but I’ve noticed that her concern for the material is decidedly lacking.
She’s given me several things, most of which I’ve not taken from the house yet; I don’t want to remove the things from her environment, to leave holes where her things used to be. One of the things she’s given me that I have taken home is a necklace of semi-precious beads. It’s a beautiful, delicate thing, and the colors harmonize beautifully with my energy. I can’t bring myself to wear it yet, though; I don’t know whether seeing me wear it would make her happy or bring her pain. I can’t figure a graceful way to ask her if she wants to see me with it, so I’m going to keep it until she passes and make putting it on for the first time a ritual of my grieving.