A Somber Duty…

My sister had a Somber Duty this morning. She cleaned my mother's closet of all her personal belongings. This January my mom will have been passed away two years. It is still hard to believe she's gone. I saw her before she died and she looked in bad shape. She was propped up on the couch looking pale with a bandage on her foot. She smiled and told me too have a good day. I hadn't been home an hour when my father called and said she had collapsed on the floor and died. I was stunned and didn't believe him thinking it was some sick joke. I wonder today what what have happened if I stopped while she was on the couch and asked her if she was okay. Did she need help?

"Momma sure had a lot of clothes," my sister said emerging from the closet.

"Did you find my gun?" I asked. "Dad hid my gun somewhere in mom's closet."

"You mean this?" my sister replied handing me a very heavy handgun bag.

Dad felt schizophrenia and guns didn't mix and rightly so. He took away my gun for my safety. I handed him the bag as he looked on approvingly.

I helped my sister put bag after bag of my mother’s clothes in her car. Next came the black bags of countless shoes. They and the clothes were to be given to charity.

Dad fed us. He cooked baked chicken breasts, green beans, summer squash, pickled beets, and biscuits. We all ate an early supper and then my sister and I headed to our respective homes. I’ve felt melancholy ever since.