MarineScallop of Bluster

Oof. I think it would take more energy than I currently have to describe this weekend. I had weeks of hell some years ago when we were clearing out my parents' old house. I had a weekend of hell when the Duchess and I moved our mother from the independent living apartment where she had lived with our father to the much smaller assisted care apartment that became her home. This was another one of those. Although the sheer amount of stuff that has to be moved gets smaller every time, it gets worse because what's left is more distilled, and heralds a sadder step down every time. With the Duchess and Duke, Mr. Science and me all hard at work, we got everything moved out of her old room and either trashed/recycled or packed into our vehicles for storage or donation in just one day. But it was a very exhausting day in all ways. The Sparrowhawk was there, but he sat in the living area and stayed out of it. What my father used to disdainfully call "ragpicking" can really only be performed by the FOO. From time to time I would bring the Sparrowhawk a box to be taken to the car. That was not an efficient way of packing, and when we got to the end, the last bits didn't fit, and I had to haul everything back out of the car and repack it to my own specifications, because my ability to perform Tetris in 3-D is better than his.

Mother's blood pressure went down, so the issue of taking her to the hospital didn't come up. For which I'm very grateful. Nevertheless, she was sadly inarticulate and confused when Mr. Science tried to visit with her on Saturday, and I know that was heartbreaking for him. We stayed overnight with Deb and the Prussian, and they came with us to visit her this morning on our way home. She was a little better. She recognized all of us. We were able to keep her company for lunch. They brought her tray out to the bakery cafe so we could sit with her, because the dining room was crowded. She was able to feed herself, with some assistance cuttting up the food and pushing it onto her fork. But slowly, so very slowly and effortfully. We had communication of a sort, but she was only present in occasional flashes. Still, to see a smile or two is worth it. I was able to call Queenie and hold the phone to Mother's ear so she could hear Queenie's voice and Queenie could hear her. Before we got there, two friends from church had visited her, so I think she was tired out with visiting. We called the nurse for her so she could lie down and have a nap. When she had gone to sleep, an old friend from her former residence came by and left her a cookie and a book.

I cleared all the files and crap out of her desk and bookcase so my brother could haul the furniture away in his trailer, but I didn't have time to sort it on the spot, so I had to bring it all home in boxes. Being surrounded by more piles of my parents' things fills me with inexpressible horror. I took on this job because my siblings would have had a very hard time with it. The Duchess already sorted Mother's clothes, and I think that's enough pain for her share. Tonight I went through a file box of papers and threw out most of them. I have a file full of autobiographical/genealogical stuff in case anyone wants to know, and a file full of poetry written by my parents. That latter one creeps me out quite a bit. Anyway, yay me, now I only have about a hundred pounds of paper left to sort out. Agghhhh. I wish I had something amusing to tell you, but I don't.