The Stuff o' Life

One day in the near or distant future, I may have to sort through piles of belongings at my parents' house that could include but not be limited to: every birthday card they've ever received; piles of snapshots with no dates, captions or identifiers; shoes no one's worn in 20 years and stockpiles of canned peaches.

But that day is not today. Not for me, anyway.

That day came recently for my friend, Mary (of this blog's title), who's been making trips from California to our native Kentucky to help her elderly mother, Patricia, shut down and pack up the family home and prep for the cross-country move of her life. It's not been, shall we say, an easy process and I happen to have a unique perspective. I've known the family since Mary and I were college roommates in Kentucky and I love them dearly. So I'm the perfect mix of familiar insider and detached observer when she needs to let off a little steam (okay, maybe a LOT).

I believe you learn a lot about people by the stuff they hold onto. Not just the daily detritus lying around on the countertops, but the things they keep, put in drawers and closets -- the things they save.

And after going through three floors of her mom's house with a fine-tooth comb (and there were probably a couple dozen of those hanging around, by the way), Mary knows a lot more about Pat than she ever did before.

I'll let her expound on some of that because a) it'll be funnier when she tells it and b) she might need to vent about the jaw-dropping amounts of paper clips, random pieces of metal and file drawers brimming with musty cancelled checks that she unearthed.

Important note: when it's someone else's junk, it's considered bad form to just chuck it into the Dumpster while rolling your eyes and saying things like, "Who lives this way?" When it's your elderly/ill/infirm parent's junk, it's an even more delicate situation, as many of us Gen Xers are finding out as our parents downsize the family compounds, heading to manageable apartments or that Melrose Place for the geriatric set, Leisureworld.

Especially when there's a deadline, and there often is, you don't have time to hear the twisted rationalizations about why your mom hordes sugar packets from restaurants (that would be my poor friend Marc's current dilemma). You need only ask: "Keep or toss?" And even that is a loaded question.

Mary's heading back to Louisville for the final phase, where she'll be faced, no doubt, with massive piles of Pat's life that have yet to be labeled, categorized, boxed or tamed. I do not envy her. And though Pat will be coming to a new home, a beautiful place to live in the Valley close to both Mary, her sister, Ruth, and me, she's parting with more than just a condo in eastern Jefferson County, Kentucky. She's leaving everything she's known for decades, including her friends, her favorite grocery store, her familiar routes and routines and many of the material possessions she's collected over the last 50-plus years.

Granted, she probably didn't need Mary's college report cards from the '80s or that belt from a dress she hasn't worn (or even seen) in years. Other stuff has been tougher to part with, emotionally and psychologically.

Once the packing's done, or at least mostly done, Mary and Pat will haul themselves by car, Thelma-and-Louise-style, to Los Angeles. (Much more on that later -- check back for the play-by-play as Mary charts their progress across the great U. S. of A. and I provide commentary like only a smartass observer who's not in a confined space with an aged parent can do).

Meanwhile, since I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by my own clutter, I think I'll purge some of the approximately 87 wash cloths and guest towels I've uncovered in the linen closet. Since I don't have nearly that many faces, hands or visitors, I think I can safely get rid of most of these without ever feeling their loss. Superfluous crap, be gone!

My head is swimming today.

I feel like before I leave I have to get a handle on things in two states and all the places in between. I have to leave everything in place at home so that my prolonged absence doesn't send MY life into chaos: pet sitting, mail pickup, plant watering, bill paying (which means having enough in the bank before I leave so that all those auto payments don't bounce into the stratosphere). I'm using the blog and tweets to stay connected to everyone which I think is going to be a lifesaver (thanks for the idea, Terry). I just don't like being physically gone from home for lengthy periods.

But that's not all. I want to be mentally prepared to support my mom in what is, no doubt, the hugest transition of her life in decades. EVERYTHING is about to change for her and it's a lot to take in. So I want to get my head clear enough to be present for her needs when I'm in Kentucky helping her with the final push. I just found out my sister will go there a few days ahead of me to do some prep work and I thank heavens for that. All hands on deck, right?

I also have to plan the trip route for the drive back and have some reasonable system in place for hotels on the road. Because the thought of wandering through rural Texas looking for a friendly inn with my 78-year-old mom in the car sounds just a little bit like the seventh circle of HELL. I got GPS on my phone so that I could find medical facilities quickly should that become necessary. Not that I'm expecting it but I want to have it just in case.

These are the kinds of thoughts that keep me up all night and also make me want to just go back to bed. Presuming I ever got out of bed. Which I kind of haven't done yet today. HEY! Don't judge me! Besides, I'm posting on Pacific Standard Time so it's not like it's afternoon.

Yet.

My mom has lived in Kentucky her entire life. My sister and I live in Los Angeles. Last fall the doc said she could no longer live alone, which she has done since our dad died in 2005. So she's moving across the country to be close to us. Hmmm. What's THAT like? I'm curious to find out myself and I'm going to post my observations and experiences here.

Let me clear up something about the blog name: it's slightly inaccurate. It's catchy so that's why I like it. But really my mom is moving herself, with an enormous amount of help from her daughters. It's just that My Aging Mom Is Moving With An Enormous Amount of Help From Her Adult Daughters didn't seem like a good blog title, much less Twitter name.

My sister, Ruth, has insisted all along that I've done the lion's share of the work on our end. I'm not sure if that's true but she seems to thank me OFTEN. I know I don't feel like it's been disproportionate. I had more time available than my sister when all this blew up so I told her I didn't mind doing more of the footwork stuff (calling doctors, researching places for mom to live, etc.) -- as long as she didn't leave ANYTHING solely up to me in terms of decision-making. She agreed and we've been in this together every step of the way. Apparently to have the siblings getting along so well in this endeavor is rare. I don't know if that's true but I know I'm incredibly grateful that Ruth and I can support each other.

In only eight days I'll fly to Kentucky to help mom with the final packing. Then we'll drive away from her home and head west. Wish me luck.