Friday, March 17, 2017

It’s quiet here. Mom’s room is empty. I actually emptied the drawers and put clothing in my car for Good Will yesterday. I also emptied the closets. Taryn came by this morning to pick up the extra supplies for one of her patients. And the man from the equipment company picked up mom’s wheelchair, oxygen, walker, bed, bed table, shower stool, and potty. I have already called Jake to come and give me an estimate for tearing down the closet to make room for a dining room table. The chandelier, much to every tall person’s dismay, had been hung in the room just before mom arrived. I remember how I wanted it out of the basement and safely hung in what would become the dining room. But plans were postponed.

The room is almost as empty as I feel. There is one silly reminder of all that took place: a brown spot on the rug we were unable to remove. This accident occurred while Rob was moving mom to the potty. Mom could not move her legs at all. She was dead weight in his arms and her soiled diaper overflowed just a bit. We had to throw away Rob’s socks. Funny, though, it’s a welcome spot now. A sign of a life. Alas, a life that was. I will have the carpet torn out. But I won’t soon forget that this was the room where mom spent the last days of her life. I am brought to mind of the day I had Stanley Steemer come and clean the carpet in the living room after Lorenzo died. I cried while the workmen cleaned up the spot where he used to lay. His scent would be gone. I missed him more.

Mom’s passing was almost peaceful. She closed her eyes for the last time on Wednesday and they never opened again. She was somewhat restless, and the only pain she experienced was the discomfort that occurs from organ shutdown and failing respiration.

Still receiving phone calls. Just received one from a church member on the outreach committee. There is nothing that can fill the emptiness Rob and I feel at the moment. The room is empty, and my heart aches.