I wrote an email to a friend about spending the last few weeks clearing out my mother’s house. As I described the process, I wrote about how the last few years of her life, my mother just seemed to collect junk and store it all around her house. One instance that really gets to me is that I lost weight and my clothes didn’t fit me anymore. I was going to gather the clothes that didn’t fit me and give them to Goodwill. I did that, but my mother asked me often not to do so. She wanted me to gather the clothes and give them to her. She said that she could use them, or she would donate them. I did that I few times. Then, when we cleared her house, I found the clothes. She had packed them up and stored them. She didn’t use them. She didn’t donate them. She just stored them in her house for no particular reason. She had bought brand new items from the store and then just stored them in closets. She didn’t want to throw anything away.
I noticed that she didn’t keep any of my father’s possessions or clothes. She had donated them. I reasoned that her behavior of keeping and storing items just started after my father died in the last nine years of her life. I wish I could know exactly what was going on, but I don’t think she could be honest with me about it; I don’t think she was capable of being honest with herself about it.
I do know that it was the first time in my mother’s life that she ever had to be on her own. I really worried about it because I knew if it were me, I would have difficulty. Yet, she never asked for help or said a word about it. I think that it must have been very scary being in a house all alone all the time with just a TV, a dog, and facing yourself.
I’ve heard that hoarding gives people a sense of control. Maybe it gave her a sense of control in the last years of her life when it felt like she was losing control of everything. I want to say that I feel bad that she was so isolated and afraid at the end, but I can’t. There’s nothing I could have done. Although I didn’t know the extent of the hoarding, I knew that she was afraid and alone, but I also knew that she wouldn’t ever be honest with me about what she was going through. She decided out of spite that she wasn’t going to ask me for help ever again just because I didn’t come to her call exactly when she wanted me to. She was so angry that she couldn’t control me that she decided I wasn’t ever going to help her again. She created her own prison of fear and isolation. I pray that her soul finds some peace. I don’t think she found what she was looking for in life.
I hope that I learn from it. I don’t want to die thinking I’m alone and afraid. I think I’m already well on my way. I know that part of my husband’s heart lives within me and that even if death should separate us, he will always be a part of me forever. I also know that my faith is strong and that no matter what happens and no matter what anyone says or does, I believe God has been with me before I was born, and He will never abandon me even long after I die. I will never be alone.
My faith saved me. May God’s peace reside in all of our hearts.
