The hundreds of personal, handwritten notes...in a pen and writing style I recognize instantly...the biggest challenge of handling my Mom's estate...
Somewhere on each of her most precious belongings...stories or origin, birth, death, provenance...some funny, some terribly sad...this one taped underneath the top of a miniature table...my Uncle Edwin made it for my Grandmother Lula...from her original family dining table...
As I pick up each item...open each note...I take a breath...I imagine Mom imagining me...finding it...reading it...feeling it...deciding what to do with it...
I sense her longing...expressed aloud and often during her lifetime...that I keep each and every thing...
I sit with of her treasures until all sense of attachment...hers...and mine...flows through me...and back into the universe to be recycled...
Permanently removed from our family's genetic code...replaced with love...gratitude...thankfulness...an appreciation that each thing is every thing...and no thing...all at the same time...
Letting go of each one...so I can move on to the next...breathe...feel...release...and so it comes...and goes...
