This storage unit holds much more than just her "stuff"

     At some point along in this unwanted journey I'm forced to take, I know that I have to sort through my mom's things and decide what to do with it all.  She has a storage unit full of boxes and furniture and then of course all of her things that are still in her room in my basement.  I have been avoiding this task and even used my husband's work-in-progress on the basement as an excuse as to why I can't get into her room yet.  I don't want to face it and dive in....where do I even start?
      Well, yesterday I made an attempt.  Albeit a lackluster one, it was an attempt none the less.  I ventured into mom's storage unit., or as I see it, her time capsule.  I made Ben meet me there after work and took both kids with me because deep down I was hoping somehow they would be able to make this job pain free and distract me enough that it wouldn't phase me that I was routing through the last things left of mom.  No such luck.
       Opening that metal garage-style door to the storage unit was like opening the door to a time machine that sent me back 6years, 10years, 25 years ago.  Lifting the tops to boxes and finding miniture clocks mom collected and all of her collectors plates that I made fun of for so may years was like someone sucking the air right out of my lungs-  it took my breath away and I don't know that I've gotten it back yet.  Her bed is right up front in the unit.  A beautiful canopy bed with the four posts that other rails connect to at the top.  I remember always thinking it was so tall and just big all around....yesterday it seemed smaller and not as royal as I once pictured it.  In fact, all of mom's furniture seemed smaller to me.  Her hope chest that used to be long enough for me to stretch completely out on is now just long enough to sit and prop my legs up on.  The dinning room chairs that were so fancy and beyond heavy to me back in the day now were just pretty, almost dainty looking chairs sitiing there.  The home that mom created for me that I lived in for 20+ years seemed so grand and colossal at the time.  And I want it to stay that way for me, but it's not.  All of those items that surrounded me seem so much less now that mom's gone.  I can't imagine letting any of it go.
       For whatever reason, I made the mistake of thinking I was strong enough to head into my basement and get into my mom's room.  Her overstuffed recliner is still sitting there just how she left it when Todd had to take her to the er on Dec 3.  Her Oil of Olay lotion on the shelves right next to it with the top only half on like she had a habit of leaving it. But what really broke me was seeing her shoe sitting there on the floor....her shoe....a stupid, old, dirty white shoe started the tears flowing. I hadn't even touched a thing yet and here I see a shoe and it just shatters me like baseball hitting a window. It was like I had just learned of my mother's passing in that moment for the first time all over again. God damn that shoe! How am I supposed to get through her things? How am I supposed to go through all of her stuff and make decisions to give some of it away when I can't even look at a stinky old Sketcher slip-on tennis shoe without completely falling apart?
I sat on the couch in mom's room to try and pull it together and I could still smell her perfume on some of her clothes sitting next to me. I didn't touch them or pick them up, but I could smell the soft warmth that was the scent of her perfume faintly coming from them. And that was all I could do.....just sit there. I stopped crying and just sat. Silence. Starring. And all of it starring right back at me. And once again, I felt the air being sucked right out of me and the sickening sense of helplessness overwhelmed me. I am no where near as strong as I hoped I would be. Right now, I'd give anything to have even an ounce of the courage my mom carried ....


*I miss helping you put on your shoes, mom. I love you.