Flashbacks

Wandering round an empty house, we looked over the objects and furniture within. These weren't just bog standard objects or bits of tat. They were memories, they had meanings and sentimentality. These things belonged to someone, so how can you just walk in and take them?

''Oh yes I'll have that table over there, that'll go lovely with my decor..''

Literally weeks earlier that table was being used by it's owner, possibly securely holding up a half full coffee cup, eavesdropping in on the cheerful banter as per normal... years of use and purpose... years of belonging and being taken for granted. Now reverted to just a 'thing' that'll do. It'll suffice... it isn't ugly, so ''Yea, I'll 'av that''.
If that table were alive and capable of emotion, it would be quietly sobbing where it stood. For this heartless new owner... pfft... what do they know. They don't care. They just want to lump their sweaty feet on it and abuse it. A mere 'thing'.. and another factor in the circle of life easily overlooked.

Today I was taken to my dad's ex-wife's house. In the past few weeks she has been taken permanently into a care home. She's lacking mental capability enough to look after herself, and they had no option but to put her into care and rent out her, now empty and unwillingly abandoned house. However renting out the house involved it being rented unfurnished, and with that, clearing out all of her belongings.

So my dad took me along. "you might find something you need for your house!" he said. So begrudgingly I agreed. I never knew her properly. I'd maybe spoken to her once or twice, never in great detail. She was my mum's predecessor. The love my dad had before he met my mum. To me she was like a rival, oddly. She was the 'other woman' in my dad's life. I didn't have any problem with her. I just... found it strange I suppose. I agreed to go as otherwise the stuff would end up in some 'man with a van' house clearance place, and I thought it better that things go to 'family' rather than some two bit white van man. So off we went to pick out anything we might want.

We arrived and I had a shock to see my sister was there, and my niece. Who I haven't seen in god knows how many years. I've never been close to my family. At all. I've always kept myself to myself and seeing as my family are spread as far and wide as Seattle and Germany it's hard to stay in contact. My sister lives in Derby so it made sense for her to be in change of sorting out her mum's belongings. I should explain that I have 3 brothers and a sister. My sister and one of my brothers are from my dad's marriage to his ex wife. My other 2 brothers are from my mum's marriage to her exhusband. Still with me? I'm the only devilspawn of my mum and my dad. But they have other children. So I suppose that would make my siblings half brothers and sisters really, but what's in a name? They may as well be strangers really. I never speak to them.

When I walked in I was really taken aback. My sister looked, just, empty I suppose. My immediate thought is that I must've looked similar when I was doing the same for my mum. And with that thought I started to think about my mum, and how I had been in my sister's shoes just under 4 years ago. Clearing out her mum's belongings and trying to keep yourself together while the rest of your world is falling apart. I mumbled a brief "Y'alright?" before concentrating my efforts on controlling the 3 children we had in tow with us. We wandered around the house. And all I could think about is the things this house and all these possessions had seen, and just how tragic it all was. Merely weeks ago she was at home, trying to carry on with life as best as she could with her failing health and mental state.
I walked around the house in a kind of blur. It was almost like walking through a memorial. Bed sheets untouched as they'd been she she left, half drunk bottles of wine on the side, DVD's by the tv lazily not returned to their boxes... it was almost as if she'd just popped out to the shops. Nothing apart from the gloomy atmosphere between the adults in the house suggested that this wasn't someones home anymore, and that she'd never be coming back.

It was far too easy to put myself back 4 years. Doing exactly the same walking round my mum's house. Picking up objects with tears in my eyes remembering fragments of memories and bleary flashbacks to happier times. It's just so heartless and cruel, to pick up an object and decide whether it's worthy of surviving the cull. I could've taken everything from my mum's. But I'd never have had the room. So having to go through wave after wave of memory and decide what to take and what to clear out was agonising. All the time you're having to deal with the grief of your loss, and the memories making everything a million times harder, as well as the guilt of having to get rid of things that you know your mum cherished and took pride in, and built the foundations for her life on. And there you were, just chucking them into a bin bag because they didn't fit the 'suitability criteria'...

When I left my dad's ex-wife's house I couldn't even look at my sister. Or anyone for that matter. I just felt numb. I just kept seeing my mum, and the empty shell of a house that I left after I'd had to clear out her house.

The circle of life is a bitch. A cruel, heartless, unmerciful bitch.