Neglected Homes and Wounded Families

I made a quick trip to retrieve the belongings left to my branch of the family tree by my Drama Mama at her passing.

Also, I went through a few of the dregs the three princesses sent home with my "good" Sister. I was surprised at how much I did want. We are minimalists at our house, and, yes, we really can use some additional rubbermaid storage containers. I think carefully before I buy things so we just don't have overflowing cupboards with things others might find mundane but essential.

I picked out a few items of her clothing that I thought I might like and a pair of shoes. By the time I arrived at my home, I realized the folly of that idea. There is no way I could bring myself to wear any of the clothing. First, it isn't me. Second, there are just too many strong emotions. The shoes maybe. We'll see.

Before leaving, I went by her house, which sits vacant, neglected, abandoned. The three princesses after so much hullabaloo to become Drama Mama's personal representatives have declined to open a probate, kept all of the valuable personal property not specifically given to someone in the will and haven't bothered to give notice to the creditors of her passing. The house is upside down. My "good" sister is still getting calls from creditors.

The house which made my Drama Mama so happy in her last years looked so forlorn with the front lawn thirty inches high and a yellowed newspaper on the walk. All the light was gone and only a dreary, sad and pathetic aura pervaded the place. Somehow it seems like an altogether too fitting metaphor for the injury to our family that will never heal.