Another difficult room to part ways with, not just for it’s significance but for the future plans I had dreamed of converting your room into.
I had envisioned developing this room into my work office by placing a shiny white desk by the large window, a bright velvet blue couch at it’s front and a large bookcase that stretched across the entire wall showcasing my love and obsession for coffee table books. I wanted to spend my days in your room, writing and being creative since the idea of keeping it as a bedroom distressed me slightly. I could never find rest in that room knowing of what it once was nor could I ever allow anyone else to lay their heads upon a pillow in this room, let alone a stranger!
As many sweet, sweet memories I have in this room they are all clouded by those final moments of your last year with us on earth. This was a room you confined yourself to, most days refusing to leave your bed, even to answer the phone or door. Your Alzheimer’s was not kind to you, nor was the cancer. It was she who left you bed ridden and in a constant state of agitation. Sucking and draining away your life force with each fleeting moment, your bed was the only thing that seemed to keep you at peace.
It was hard to see you like this, even more difficult to comprehend the pain and enmity you felt everyday. Watching you pull away from us, slowly deteriorating and unwilling to fight for survival. Curled up in that bed under that bright pink floral comforter my brother and I gifted you for Christmas that year prior.
All that remains now is a small handful of clothing hanging in your closet. One or two favorite dresses of yours that mum couldn’t bear to part with and other pieces you skillfully made for yourself. It’s quite pitiful opening those doors knowing of the opulence that once lay await in there before. The starkness of that metal bar encompassed in a variety of plastic and metal hangers laying dormant is a sad sight for sore eyes.
Fashion and clothing were always something we’d so easily bonded about and something we both adored. You were always making little dresses for me as a baby and child, even as I got older you tried to sew up a little something for me, though my fussy and ungrateful tastes would always turn you down, opting only for alterations to other pieces I had purchased at stores. I remember your glee when I asked you to make my high school formal gown and the numerous mini arguments that ensued over it. You wanting a higher neckline, me wanting a plunging one. You wanting a modest split and open back, me needing thigh high and a fully exposed back.
We were both so passionate on these things some times!
I never really understood your seamstress talent until well after you left us, only recently actually when a certain paisley print long sleeved mod dress caught my eye. It was beautiful and something I would totally wear right now, if only I could fit into it! I then spent that day furrowing through your closet, pulling out more treasures, admiring them and cursing my curvy frame for not being able to squeeze into them!
It’s just like that saying, you never really know what you have until it’s gone.
I’ll always remember how much my little puppy enjoyed your room too. She had a certain fondness for that tight little space between your bedside table and bed. She’d always tuck herself away in there when she was feeling overwhelmed by new faces or our loud voices. Even when you were bed ridden she knew well enough not to disturb you by leaping at the foot of your bed, proudly announcing her arrival, opting to stand guard by that tiny space.
I wished I had captured those moments of her there since I only now am able to faintly see her gleaming eyes in that darkness when I would go searching for her. Comforting her shaking frame.
And aside from a dwindling closet of your material possessions there now stands grandfathers double bed, your single sized one already claimed by mum and dad and taken to their beach house (I presume) for use. My pleas for them to see reason to convert your room into a study, unheard. My brother had other ideas, wanting the spare room to become the study and your bedroom to be used as the guest room. It makes me physically ill to think that strangers will be sleeping there, doing God knows what else too. I know you would not be pleased at all with this change, you were always such a private and kept person and I know the idea of a stranger sleeping where you used to would appall, no matter what the situation or who.
There’s also that Virgin Mary light up picture thing. It always hung above your bed and still hangs on that wall now. But for how long, I have no idea. I’m pretty sure my brother will insist upon removing and discarding it once he finally, officially moves in.