The Burrito and I flew out to California on Monday Feb. 9 with Camel Gramma. What a week we had. IT began with the Burrito have a difficult time on the plane so much so that he headbutted me in the face bruising my cheekbone (it is still sore to the touch today...crazy!)
One would think and possibly even expect that when a family member passes on certain things are just understood to happen....all my 'understanding' was challenged this week. Why is it that death brings out the ugliness in people? Should it not bring families closer together? Not push them further apart? I mean really....are possessions truly that important? Who really cares what is left behind? I just do not get it. Why would people rush into a deceased persons house and swipe all the valuables before family arrives? What makes a possession valuable anyway? Isn't the value on the heart of the owner? I seriously could look at a million dollar piece of art and think to myself...."I wouldn't hang that in my garage let alone pay that kind of money and hang it ion my home." People and their selfishness amaze me....I don't know why. Maybe because my heart wont allow my mind to operate from that plane.
I ran the full gamut of emotion during the course of our week in California. Sorrow for the loss of an aunt whom I dearly loved and many fond memories of from childhood. Frustration at the speed (or lack there of) at which things were getting (or not getting) done. Anger at my aunt for wasting the precious gift of life that someone else s family lovingly and selflessly gave in order that she may have a longer life. Sadness for her that she had so little self worth and such deep rooted depression that she could not rise above life's difficulties and survive. which brings me to another question I ponder.......what makes some people survive thrive and grow stronger in the presence of adversity and others crumble beneath allowing themselves to be eaten by the darkness of the situation? Anyway....There were precious moments when I would find lying in the midst of the filth and dust a memory in solid form to which I could hold and feel. A memory from years gone by of the aunt my heart adored and admired as a child. I held tightly to those moments through the week.
The task was huge and the hours to accomplish it were few. She had been sick for years and depressed for as long. Her home had never been cleaned...no exaggeration....use your imagination because the sight and smell we walked into was so awful I could not bring my self to photograph it...We were forced to wade through layers and layers of dust to get to things....I had a system first I cleared out her back room in order to use it for a donation. Front lawn was trash....front room was keep....back room was donate. And the week went on. By Friday the mission was complete. Now we needed to decide if we were to rent a truck and drive the keep items back to Iowa for my mother or ship the items or store them for later pick up. Horrible weather in the mountains made our decision easy. No driving. Saturday we stashed Mother's treasures in storage and our mission was complete.
No time to stop and enjoy the beauty that surrounded us. I drank in moments here and there. Taking mental photographs.
Friday evening my dear cousin drove up from San Fransisco for a visit....the time went by far too quickly. The Burrito loved her too!
There are moments that are just too awful to record and some that were too small.
Thank you all for your encouragement and prayers while we were gone. Its good to be home. I missed my monsters fiercely and brought home a little monster who will NOT leave my side...YIKES!
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