Dad and I had a small walk. It was so small that I can't even really count it as a walk but it got dad off the sofa and outside. Hopefully he will walk again later. I am doing the laundry and there are more clothes piled up.
I am going to enjoy my tea before tackling the rest of the laundry. This morning I went to Goodwill and dropped off old clothes of mum that were still in the house. Most of them appeared new and someone would be able to use them.
I have left dropping off books now as I want to remove unused clothing and other soft goods. Books can always be sorted and looked at later. I have taken some to FIND and some to Goodwill but now I will focus on the other stuff in the house.
It's already lunch time for dad but he's still napping. I asked him if he wanted some pea soup and he said not yet so I imagine he will have a late lunch. My peppermint tea is delicious. I am enjoying it far too much. Let me go do the laundry now. So one set is now done.
In the hallway of mirrors that is life I go about doing chores, dumping stuff and making a place for yet more junk in the basement. Meanwhile my father goes about his social rounds, calling everyone he knows to talk and make contact in a way that is entirely foreign to me. I prefer a quiet house, where books are my friends and where silence is the goad to write or read. The quiet of the home is a blessing for hubby and myself but is anathema to dad who keeps phoning relatives, friends, and odd past acquaintances to talk. He lives for his relationship. I live for avoiding relationships.
I understand why Sue collected books because I collect them as well. Books are the friends of our lives. We keep them near as trusted advisers and objects that will never betray us. Books keep secrets and are beautiful to touch and own. Possessiveness about books endures even after cancer rips away the shroud about us and tells us it is all useless. Even now after my sister has died, I keep her books like a shrine. Not all of them. But a lot of them.
Once I have gone through probate twice I will be more sluggish about the removal of stuff. Already the heat of summer is upon us and we are like drowsy flies about a bowl of cream. I don't feel like doing anything right now. Later maybe, I will bring in the stiff bodies of the towels drying on the deck. Later I might put the clothes away. Later I might wake up sufficiently to read. Later.
But here, in the hallway of mirrors that is life, I look at one reflection and then at another. Which one is the one I will believe in now? What is the purpose of all these wants and needs? Which project will I work on? How will I get through all the work? I leave the problem of what it all means. Maybe it means nothing. What we do in life to get us through life is each of our problem and really who am I to say that collecting stuff is a bad way to get through life especially a life of suffering that Sue endured? A bit of pleasure goes a long way when you have metastatic breast cancer. Long may she have enjoyed her books and small items.