It was supposed to go on the market in October. Thanks to some amazing friends, I had finished packing and clearing and donating and cleaning in record time. And then 14 hours after I met with a Realtor I got a call that the condo was flooded from a busted hot water heater. Seriously? Another test in patience and trust and faith. Thank God for an amazing insurance company and the unbelievably efficient and courteous folks at ServPro. Six weeks later we are good to go with new floors and repaired cabinets.
I never, ever anticipated that it would take this long to sell my Mom's condo. It's in a prime location, a first floor corner unit with a direct walk to the pool. Even she must have thought this would be a slam-dunk because this was the one thing that she didn't leave a long list of instructions about how to handle once she was gone. But, it's been 10 months since my Mother died and I'm sure she's not pleased it has taken this long to find a buyer. I'm sure, however, that God's timing is perfect. I know that I have learned more about patience, ,self-control and humility during this process. And when your buyer makes an offer, signs a contract and closes in less than 10 days - you know it's the right one!
The best part about this prolonged goodbye? it keeps me digging through Mom's photos. I kept wondering how she had so many prints of my life until I remembered that she always asked me to get double prints when I developed film so that she could have a set. She has all of my memories. Governor's School, NC Junior Miss, cheerleading, track, state drama competition, Duke cheerleading - you name it. She kept it all. And now, I cannot bear to part with it. We brought home boxes and boxes on Saturday to stack in our already to crowded garage. How do I throw away my past? How do I throw away my Mom's memories?
I've got one more trip to take to Concord tomorrow. There's three tubs full of Bibles and devotional books and inspirational wall hangings that I earmarked for Epworth United Methodist long ago. I finally fixed my struggle by deciding to keep all of Mom's Bibles and devotions with notes and give away those that were unmarked. The unmarked pile is still huge and I hope will bring blessing to someone at Epworth.
And then we sign papers and say a welcome goodbye. Maybe it won't hurt down the road. But for now I cannot dive north on I-85 from Charlotte and pass the Kannapolis exit and without thinking "Tucker Hospice House." I cannot drive to the 601 By-Pass without thinking cancer, I cannot drive by the hospital without seeing the windows to the room where she had her first surgery or the courtyard outside her chemo spot. I need some distance from Concord. Her Yellow Pixie Dust is strong enough to grow without me here.
Mom - I know you've been in your heavenly house with sun flowers and hummingbirds and all your desires for months. But it hurts to say goodbye to your house. I walked the rooms alone on Saturday and bawled. You weren't there, but your memories were. When will it stop hurting so much?