SOLACEVerb: Give solace to.
Noun: Comfort or consolation in a time of distress or sadness: "she sought solace in her religion"
This is a picture taken in the living room of my parents' house. I took alot of "before" pictures. Needless to say, this room does not look like this anymore. My parents loved "things" as well as what that stuff represented. Books were a way to travel, to educate, to stimulate, to look out and be a part of the world. Records were a way to feel the sensuality of life, the goodness, pureness of human emotion, the feel of silken culture on the ear. These things were important to my parents and their home reflected that.
Now, they are both gone from this world and all these things are left for me to go through and decide about. I have written here, on numerous occasions, about my fear of letting this all go. Their house - bought in 1955 and where my brother and I grew up - was the once place where my parents could be felt. Going there and looking through their things helped and I was increasingly nervous to lose access to the house.
My mother passed in November of last year, my father in April of 2006. I have had a really hard time with the idea of them being gone from my presence. I felt solace when I went to their house and was among their things. It felt as if they were on a long vacation and would be returning soon. I felt weird going through their drawers and closets, looking under their beds, removing their books and records. It was as if I was anticipating a scolding for messing things up.
I think about this project all the time. I go to the house and work for a couple days in a row and am overwhelmed. I take a couple days off and try again only to have to stop ..again. And I worry. I have some time but what about at the end? It was so hard to see those books leave the house. The records I had to turn over to my husband. I knew I could not bear to be there.
Now, almost a year after my mother's death...I am of a new mind. I have battled within for a couple of months and have come up with one key word - SOLACE. My friend came over to give me his opinion and help with this project. My friend, Robert, is a rare fellow and a great person to turn to when you need another opinion. He is smart, educated, talented and empathetic. In short, I trust him. I needed him to look around and tell me his thoughts. Basically, I feared I was just lazy, I see now. That was the reason I could not accomplish emptying this house. I was giving up way too easily. It was not that hard of a task, right?
He set me right. By looking at what was really there I was able to recognize that I no longer was getting SOLACE. Going to the house was now painful. Mom and Dad are not coming back. Are never coming back. There is no one place to stand, on this earth, where I can ever "feel" them again. I can stand in the chapel at church, in front of the columbarium that holds their ashes, and know that their remains are close but they are not there either. There is no SOLACE for me anywhere anymore.
Now, their house and its contents are a burden. The lovely things are just that. Lovely things. I have my own lovely things. I have already moved out several things that make me feel good. The chair my father always sat in, their coffee table that was always buried in Smithsonian and Bon Appetite magazines. These things bring back the familiar, if only for a moment. The other stuff.... is their stuff. Not mine. (Reminds me of a George Carlin routine. Whatever happened to his "stuff" after he died, I wonder?) Their stuff will not enhance my life or make it easier to continue on as an orphaned adult. These things form no barrier against the big bad world. My parents were that barrier. In the flesh, they were the people who stood between me and Time, aging and the worlds' indifference. They are no longer able to provide that support for me. Their things are a poor stand in.
I no longer find SOLACE in their house.
I know that my mother would be very sad to know how much her things are burdening me now. I owe her for alot she provided me in our time together but I do not owe her suffering. That is a gift she would never have welcomed from me. I do not honor my parents by worrying over what to do with their things, honoring their things, working with their things, selling their things. No amount of money would help.
I honor them by making appointments with estate sale companies. I honor them by taking up Yoga again where I am constantly reminded to "let go" and to let the "light of my heart shine forth". I honor them by performing and uplifting people by the music I can make, using a talent nurtured and encourage by my parents. I honor them by telling stories about them and maybe, someday soon, sharing my mother's stories as she journalled them all those years.
Grief is hard, hard, hard. Adding on to it is the grief I feel for my friend, Kim. Her second grand baby was born a couple of days ago. I grieve for her daughter who can never celebrate with her mother the joy of this event. Writing this makes me see that is it still my grief taking over. How I would have missed my mother so badly if she had not been there when my daughter was born. But she was there, both parents were there to hold Mal just minutes after she was born. Grief can be confusing as it spills over into your life. You keep wiping up the spill but where the hell is the big leak???
I'm working on the leak and well I know it will never truly be fixed for good. I can see, down the line, that the drips will be more manageable. This has been a big process for me. The solace that I looked for, after my mother passed, eluded me. The solace I looked for in their house was minimum and now eludes me.
I think I need to look somewhere else. Perhaps at a lovely Fall day, as I think how my parents loved this season. Maybe at a concert when I have moved people to their feet, as I know how my parents enjoyed being at every performance of my brother and I that they could attend. Certainly at a good meal as my parents loved food and the social aspect of sharing it with friends. Daily when the feelings I have toward my husband and my daughter remind me that they modelled that loving behavior for me my whole life.
Experts say the first year you lose someone is particularly hard. The anniversaries you have to celebrate without them, the seasons that pass without the normal activities you once shared, the daily need to pick up the phone to call and share with them some anecdote or to ask for advice or....solace.
I am a work in progress. Here's what I can do. I can daily seek solace in these moments and work to avoid looking for it in things or events. Some days I will do well...other days I will allow myself grace. This is my parents' gift to me. Their love has given me grace to love myself and to do otherwise would be to disrespect their memory.
I am the "thing" they loved most.
This is a picture taken in the living room of my parents' house. I took alot of "before" pictures. Needless to say, this room does not look like this anymore. My parents loved "things" as well as what that stuff represented. Books were a way to travel, to educate, to stimulate, to look out and be a part of the world. Records were a way to feel the sensuality of life, the goodness, pureness of human emotion, the feel of silken culture on the ear. These things were important to my parents and their home reflected that.
Now, they are both gone from this world and all these things are left for me to go through and decide about. I have written here, on numerous occasions, about my fear of letting this all go. Their house - bought in 1955 and where my brother and I grew up - was the once place where my parents could be felt. Going there and looking through their things helped and I was increasingly nervous to lose access to the house.
My mother passed in November of last year, my father in April of 2006. I have had a really hard time with the idea of them being gone from my presence. I felt solace when I went to their house and was among their things. It felt as if they were on a long vacation and would be returning soon. I felt weird going through their drawers and closets, looking under their beds, removing their books and records. It was as if I was anticipating a scolding for messing things up.
I think about this project all the time. I go to the house and work for a couple days in a row and am overwhelmed. I take a couple days off and try again only to have to stop ..again. And I worry. I have some time but what about at the end? It was so hard to see those books leave the house. The records I had to turn over to my husband. I knew I could not bear to be there.
Now, almost a year after my mother's death...I am of a new mind. I have battled within for a couple of months and have come up with one key word - SOLACE. My friend came over to give me his opinion and help with this project. My friend, Robert, is a rare fellow and a great person to turn to when you need another opinion. He is smart, educated, talented and empathetic. In short, I trust him. I needed him to look around and tell me his thoughts. Basically, I feared I was just lazy, I see now. That was the reason I could not accomplish emptying this house. I was giving up way too easily. It was not that hard of a task, right?
He set me right. By looking at what was really there I was able to recognize that I no longer was getting SOLACE. Going to the house was now painful. Mom and Dad are not coming back. Are never coming back. There is no one place to stand, on this earth, where I can ever "feel" them again. I can stand in the chapel at church, in front of the columbarium that holds their ashes, and know that their remains are close but they are not there either. There is no SOLACE for me anywhere anymore.
Now, their house and its contents are a burden. The lovely things are just that. Lovely things. I have my own lovely things. I have already moved out several things that make me feel good. The chair my father always sat in, their coffee table that was always buried in Smithsonian and Bon Appetite magazines. These things bring back the familiar, if only for a moment. The other stuff.... is their stuff. Not mine. (Reminds me of a George Carlin routine. Whatever happened to his "stuff" after he died, I wonder?) Their stuff will not enhance my life or make it easier to continue on as an orphaned adult. These things form no barrier against the big bad world. My parents were that barrier. In the flesh, they were the people who stood between me and Time, aging and the worlds' indifference. They are no longer able to provide that support for me. Their things are a poor stand in.
I no longer find SOLACE in their house.
I know that my mother would be very sad to know how much her things are burdening me now. I owe her for alot she provided me in our time together but I do not owe her suffering. That is a gift she would never have welcomed from me. I do not honor my parents by worrying over what to do with their things, honoring their things, working with their things, selling their things. No amount of money would help.
I honor them by making appointments with estate sale companies. I honor them by taking up Yoga again where I am constantly reminded to "let go" and to let the "light of my heart shine forth". I honor them by performing and uplifting people by the music I can make, using a talent nurtured and encourage by my parents. I honor them by telling stories about them and maybe, someday soon, sharing my mother's stories as she journalled them all those years.
Grief is hard, hard, hard. Adding on to it is the grief I feel for my friend, Kim. Her second grand baby was born a couple of days ago. I grieve for her daughter who can never celebrate with her mother the joy of this event. Writing this makes me see that is it still my grief taking over. How I would have missed my mother so badly if she had not been there when my daughter was born. But she was there, both parents were there to hold Mal just minutes after she was born. Grief can be confusing as it spills over into your life. You keep wiping up the spill but where the hell is the big leak???
I'm working on the leak and well I know it will never truly be fixed for good. I can see, down the line, that the drips will be more manageable. This has been a big process for me. The solace that I looked for, after my mother passed, eluded me. The solace I looked for in their house was minimum and now eludes me.
I think I need to look somewhere else. Perhaps at a lovely Fall day, as I think how my parents loved this season. Maybe at a concert when I have moved people to their feet, as I know how my parents enjoyed being at every performance of my brother and I that they could attend. Certainly at a good meal as my parents loved food and the social aspect of sharing it with friends. Daily when the feelings I have toward my husband and my daughter remind me that they modelled that loving behavior for me my whole life.
Experts say the first year you lose someone is particularly hard. The anniversaries you have to celebrate without them, the seasons that pass without the normal activities you once shared, the daily need to pick up the phone to call and share with them some anecdote or to ask for advice or....solace.
I am a work in progress. Here's what I can do. I can daily seek solace in these moments and work to avoid looking for it in things or events. Some days I will do well...other days I will allow myself grace. This is my parents' gift to me. Their love has given me grace to love myself and to do otherwise would be to disrespect their memory.
I am the "thing" they loved most.
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