My Mother's Last Yardsale

My last surviving parent, my mother, passed away just over a month ago, and since she passed my siblings and I have been making decisions, mostly decided, and not behaved, about what each of us wanted, and what we didn’t, and what possessions of theirs would eventually find their way into our own domiciles.

A couple of days ago my mother’s home church hosted a memorial service on her behalf. And I like to think I was fortunate to give, rather than take, as I planned the entire service based upon my mother’s wishes, and was privileged to sing THE song of the Church, “Amazing Grace” as a tribute to her.

And it was decided, (by no one in particular) that after the memorial service culminated my siblings and I, and our children would drift over to my father’s and mother’s home, and follow through with whatever it was that we had previously

… purposed in our hearts to take unto ourselves.

My wife and I arrived a bit late, (as I had some “loose strings” to tie up at the church) and though I can assure you what greeted me when I arrived at my parent’s home was not totally unexpected, our rather ad-lib family reunion was nothing less than interesting, nonetheless.

Children and grandchildren milling around absconding with whatever they had heretofore determined, or decided on the spot to make their own, and take to their respective homes; while creating neat little piles of personal treasure.

Carnival glass, ceramic dolls, model Model-T Ford automobiles, end tables, 4x3 foot landscapes which my father had so beautifully painted, and which had graced every wall of their lakeside home. My mother’s cups and plates and dinnerware.

Organized Pandemonium

And as I have implied, by the time my wife and I arrived those old familiar walls were all but stripped of the paintings and photographs with which they had been so colorfully decorated, and the multiplied shelves and cabinets were as bare as display tables at the conclusion of a successful yard sale.

And since I had previously selected a few desirable objects, and mostly stood by and watched what might be characterized as a free for all or melee, what struck me most about it all was what seemed to me to be

Abject Disrespect

… for lives well lived, and well given to these who now milled about their humble abode and heaped riches upon themselves; almost oblivious to the minds and hearts and motives of two who’d in recent years

… given unselfishly of themselves, and loved each one of us beyond degree.

And as the eldest of my siblings, and he who had taken responsibility for my father’s, and subsequently, my mother’s financial and medical affairs, I might well have created a structured plan to divide any and all of my parent’s earthly goods, … but didn’t.

As I stood there watching the last vestiges of my parent’s hard-won bounty “walking out the door,” I almost wanted to shout,

“Stop” “Cease” “Desist” (and)

… “What are any of you thinking?”

It simply didn’t feel right.

Never again would these multiplied relics of my parent’s pasts be situated under one roof. Never again would their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren be privileged to gather under that one roof, and enjoy the comfort and camaraderie which they and their home so adequately afforded.

And then it occurred to me that had I or my siblings set aside a time for the offspring and offspring of the offspring of my folks to sit down, and formally divide the spoils my parents left behind, it might not have been such a “pretty picture.” For I think an “I want this” (and) “you can’t have that” sort of family dynamic might have been the decidedly unpleasant result of any such attempt.

No, given my parent’s generous nature, and tendency to give whatever they tended to give on a rather “on the spot” without all that much fanfare basis, just because one of theirs had a need, or because they could, it occurred to me that my father and mother would have simply 

… wanted it this way.

By William McDonald, PhD.  Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary," Vol. 36. Copyright pending

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