I dreamed this morning that I was at my Mom’s house and she was there. It is funny because part of me knows she is dead, but part of me doesn’t believe it. She always comes back. When she first started coming back, she was always rather dismayed, because she couldn’t find her stuff. I felt like such a traitor, having gone through her things and discarded or otherwise distributed it to family and friends. It seemed the prudent thing to do. My Mom was a collector and boy did she have stuff! My Dad wanted to get everything cleaned out. He was not sentimentally attached to things like my Mom was. He wanted to sell the house and simplify his life. It was a perfectly sensible thing to do, except that my Mom, though she was dead, was not yet ready to leave her things.
I am the oldest child of five. All my life I saw my mother accumulating her treasures. She would find them on sale at stores, at antique shops, or garage sales. Friends and family would give her little things because they loved her and wanted to please her. She always returned the favor by making them feel special for giving her the most wonderful thing. It wasn’t an act. She really was thrilled with every little thing! And she saved it all. The remarkable thing, to me, was the way she was able to display these treasures around her home. She really had a knack for giving things their own little space.
Mom had cancer and it had progressed to the point where she was bed ridden. My sister came from Tucson and I from Seattle to take up residency, once again, in Minnesota, in the home where we had lived so many years before. Our mother needed us and we were fortunate to be able to respond and help out. Hospice nurses came regularly and so a hospital bed was brought into the family room. The family room had large windows that looked out over a swampy nature preserve. Mom loved that room because she could watch the animals and birds and feel nature all around her. While under the influence of morphine, she told my daughter, “If you ever find yourself in this situation, try and get this room”.
While Mom was resting my sister and I began going through things in the basement. Mom was very artistic and so she had boxes and chests and bags of craft items. Many items were so old that they had become vintage treasures! Others things were quite hilarious. For example, she had several big milk cans filled with pinecones; and about twelve dozen egg cartons with eggs in them that had all been blown out. What could we possibly do with stuff like that? I actually wondered if Holly Hobby, from the 1970’s, had retired down there. We kept finding evidence of her presence.
One November day Mom told my sister and me to go into the basement and bring up those little birds. She had a couple drawers full of feathery little fake birds that she bought here and there on sale. We pretended to go look for them but we had already sent a big bag of them home with my daughter Polly, who lived near by, so we told Mom we couldn’t find them. In frustration, my mother said, “Tell Polly to come and look for them, she knows where they are”! Polly came over and brought the birds back and Mom said, “I knew you could find them”! Then Mom had Polly take the birds outside and decorate the trees. There was a birdfeeder at the window that my Dad kept filled and birds were always flocking to it, but she also wanted to see birds in the little pine trees out her window. The next spring some of those birds were still hanging on, but Mom was gone.
The family home has been sold and my father, now 84, has moved to an apartment in Arizona. My Mom always talked about moving there, but honestly, she couldn’t face what it would have taken to go through her acquisitions of a lifetime. She couldn’t bear to part with any of it! My sister and I tried to divide up things between her children and grandchildren. It wasn’t easy. Especially when everything you look at carries a memory. We did the best we could. But truthfully, now that it is all removed from my Mother’s house, it has lost a lot of its magic. The box of Christmas ornaments will never be the same as they were on my mother’s enchanting tree. The cute little collection of trinkets from her fireplace mantle look really dorky on mine. All of her Nelson Eddie memorabilia and records – I don’t even remember what we did with it.
In my dreams, Mom would show up and I would wonder what to tell her. She wants to know where all her things are and I guiltily have to tell her we didn’t think she was coming back. She tries to understand, but looks at me with disappointment. Where did I think she went? She was only gone for a while. I try to make sense of it, but I can’t. She is still alive, of course she is alive! She would never leave us permanently.
When I wake up I realize that my mother has indeed passed away. Several years ago, in fact. But my reality is that she is not “dead and gone”, she has just “passed on”, and at some future time we will join her. Jesus Christ has given us this gift with his resurrection and with his promise of our future resurrection. My Mother never doubted that and it is embedded in my soul. Families can be together forever.
So why the guilt about all this earthly “stuff”? I don’t know. Maybe it is because I am still on earth and view things through mortal eyes. In my dreams mortality and immortality get mixed up. There is a scripture that reads, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also”. (Luke 12:34)
When I think of my Mother’s home and all the things she possessed and loved, I know that what she loved most was my Dad, her children, her grandchildren, family and friends. She showed that to us all in so many ways. She made everyone feel welcome in her home. The truth is my Mom was the real treasure. Her family and friends each hold a part of that treasure in their hearts. That and the promise is enough for now.
Now that I have analyzed it maybe I can let go of the guilt. I hope I can explain it to her next time she comes around.
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