The Old City, In The Rearview Mirror

Last night in The Old City.  I stayed in one of the guest rooms at the retirement home last night, following a day of helping some folks from my dad's church pick up some stuff for a rummage sale, supervising a couple of guys who moved furniture from the apartment to both my sister's house and the church, and then the final clean-out/inspection of their place.  Another long, grueling, emotionally exhausting day.  I walked back upstairs before I collapsed into bed last night to take one last look at their home.  Eerie, echoe-ey, empty.  I could see the shadow of each piece of stuff in its proper place.

I think my parents would be pleased that everything went to my sister or to their church.  Inevitably, there were a few things that had sentimental value that were hard to release.  My parents' one and only bedroom set.  A grandfather clock.  My maternal grandmother's china closet.  My sister took a lot but she has a garage jam-packed with other stuff from the house-to-apartment move that took place two years ago.  And we're talking about 85 years worth of stuff and stuff from both of my grandparents and stuff from my mother's grandparents.  Lots of stuff.

I also think my mother would be pleased that whenever I came across some staple or cleaning supply or medical item that was somewhat used or partially depleted - but still good! still holding value for someone! - I took it to the laundry room and put it on a table with a note: "Moving.  Please help yourself."  A wholesale scarfing is taking place.  I'm sure a few things wii get pitched but I'm pleased - being a thrifty sort, my mother's son - that they're being used.

So the question that has been surfacing, up through the muck of my perception, is where does this leave me with The Old City?  My folks are gone.  My sister and her family have an open invitation to visit me in Vacation City, keeping in mind I'm upon her 12 to 0 in the visiting department.  This was the first trip where I didn't run into anyone I knew at a coffee shop or grocery store or the exercise club.  The meetings - while still stocked with some familiar faces - are largely unknown to me.  It has been 5+ years since I left - life moves on.  The old friends - dearly loved, still - are becoming increasingly distant in my experience.  It's hard to maintain connections over such a distance and over such a length of time.

I have to ruminate on this.