Another move

It’s amazing to think of all the moves I participated in this summer. At the beginning of the summer, I found myself decluttering my classroom. Most people gasp when I say it took me nine days. “What kinds of things did you have in there?” they ask. I can tell that they place me in the hoarder category. Chloe moved from her apartment to home which meant more decluttering and rearranging. July 10, the day of Mom’s fall, meant that we moved items to Metro. From Metro, she moved to Freedom Village. Waterford, the next destination, meant that we moved my parents to a new facility. Although we didn’t bring too many items, we still made an effort to create a homey environment. Our family moved from Indiana to Michigan. Caden moved from our Indiana home to the Purdue dorms. And, now…. today… the last move.

At 1:27 AM, the phone rang, causing me to jump out of bed. “Your mom passed, Michelle. I’m sorry.” Trying to remain rational, I asked her the time. When she answered, my only thought was, ” I wasn’t there.” Why? Why couldn’t I have been there? Why didn’t I sense that Sunday was her last day? I easily could have stayed at Waterford. Hurriedly, I raced out the door, hoping that my father would still be sleeping when I arrived. I couldn’t bear the thought of him waking up alone. Thankfully, he was still sleeping so I was able to be right by his side when he woke up, realizing that his wife of 54 years completed the final move. We spent the rest of the early hours in the realization that she was gone. I rationalized her death, hoping it would help. ” Dad, Mom was so skinny. There is no way she could continue in that manner.” He acknowledged the truth in my statement. We read the Bible, prayed, and planned her funeral. ” I want it to be a message of hope, ” he remarked. His tears continued to flow.

My brother arrived at 6: 30, ready for the move. “We want to move Dad back to Royal Park today, ” he instructed. “We don’t want him here any longer than needed.” I agreed. Later, in the morning, I sadly packed up the rooms. It was so strange, packing her clothing for the last time. Various staff members stopped by the room, offering condolences. I somehow kept the emotions at bay, politely said my thanks for their excellent care, and then wheeled the items down the hall to my van, parked in the front.

Seeing my father back at Royal Park gave a sense of comfort. It was just like old times. The furniture, located in the same place, welcomed me. We quickly realized, however, that it was important to move Mom’s clothing out as quickly as possible to help my father navigate the sea of emotions. We hurriedly pulled clothing off hangers and shelves, hoping he would not notice.

The afternoon ended with the funeral director arriving to discuss the funeral plans which were surprisingly funny at times. Learning that my mother chose a white casket when she met with the director back in 2015 caused us to laugh and laugh. She was the one who always mocked my father for choosing white. A piece of paper from a cemetery stated that my father purchased 4 cemetery plots for $1.00 each. The director phoned the cemetery only to learn that the plots were located in an undeveloped area, but it was possible to purchase additional plots for a high price. The laughter felt so good after so many tears.

My mother’s move is over. Her journey is complete. I rejoice in knowing that her suffering is over.

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