In praise of togetherness

   For the past 4 or 5 months, every weekend I’ve spent at least one day, 4 to 8 hours, at Mom's house, throwing out the past. Some weekends, I do skip. But I do something else toward the estate settling, so I tell myself that’s OK. I’m not failing.
   Now the floors downstairs are clear and the house smells better. But still there is more debris.
   And as you can imagine — and might know from experience — it’s heartwrenching work.
   Saturday, Michael happened to call while I was in the middle of Mom’s yearbook from her sophomore year: I bawled all over him. Which I try not to do, because it gets old.
   Also, he had already been there, first thing in the morning, shearing the front yard with his hedge trimmer. He had already done his bit for the weekend — and the week, because as has lately on Thursdays, he moved the garbage cans back from the street so I don’t have to drive over again. (I put them out on Tuesday night.)
   His reaction was just like Michael: “What can I do to help?” while yawning. After we hung up, it hit me that it WAS time to ask for help. Working alone is too upsetting and the mess — finite, it is finite — was overwhelming.
   I texted my buddy who a few years back cleared a hoard out of her mother's house and enjoyed it so much she has helped other friends with their mothers’ houses. She likes turning mess into order; she likes shopping at estate sales, and she loves categorizing things — she’s an archivist.
   It is time to get help. She'll start working with me Thursday.
   This is just friendship. Friendship.
   ALSO, I asked, and this morning Fiona skipped church so she, Michael and I could work together.
   WORKING TOGETHER IS GREAT. It was a relief to have her making the decisions about what to keep and what to toss from the heap of Talen’s and Song’s childhood things ... peed upon by cats for years.
   We emptied both of the attics — except for Dad’s big desk in the garage attic, which I want to ask Joe and Talen to bring down next time Joe’s in town with Nikki. Hopefully, he remembers how to assemble that desk, so we can sell it.
   Fiona and I made real headway in the blue bedroom, which seems to have been one big litter box for the cats.
   We made progress. Doesn’t look like it, but we did. Half of a Bagster is full.
   Meanwhile, Michael went through every page of the ancient tax returns from the attic, and sorted out pages that he will burn later.
   We found Talen or Song’s boom box, and it works. We listened to Ted Talks.
   We found a pretty tile Nikki made for Mom years ago.
   We found Dad’s uniforms, and they smell OK. We found a big framed photo of one of his ships — the Pocono? the Little Rock?
   We still haven't found his fancy-dress sword, but we have a plan to work together again next weekend.