Recently we moved my mom into a much, much smaller condominium.

When she made the move up to Michigan, she was too numb with grief to part with anything. So you can imagine the enormity of the job of sorting through decades worth of belongings.

I don't have a sentimental bone in my body. My criteria for deciding what to keep? Do I have any use for it? Will I ever care to even look at it again? No? Pitch it.

It's amazing how little we actually do need. Sorting through box after box, closet after closet, cupboard after cupboard, I'd ask, "Will you ever wear it again? Do you have any use for it?" I convinced her she needed very, very little and the give away pile ended up being ten times larger than the keep pile.

I was the right person for the big job of condensing, but the wrong person for allowing my mom time to ruminate and grieve over the precious memories sorting through each box and closet evoked. I tried my best to ward off her inevitable feelings of desolation. She has experienced so much loss.  Most people would have held her close and let her grieve. Not me, I plodded swiftly on, in spite of feeling I was failing her miserably.

My friends and family will tell you I am one of the least touchy-feely, warm and fuzzy people they know, cold even. But, honestly, on the inside I am holding people close, on the inside I am aching with them. I wish I wasn't so painfully introverted. I wish I didn't come across as cold and unfeeling. It's not an endearing quality.

The longest time my mom ever spent away from my dad was two weeks. He must have written her several times a day because she had a box full of letters he wrote to her during those weeks. Talk about being besotted!

We stumbled upon my baby book, she'd written very little, but a lock of hair from my first haircut was tucked in there as well as a teensy retainer holding two tiny yellow teeth. I knocked out my two front teeth when I was two years old. My mom didn't want that gap there until my adult teeth came in (around fourth grade), thus the retainer with two little teeth. But why yellow? If I was one bit tech savvy I would post my second grade picture showing off those beauties. I can almost guarantee a few belly laughs. My mom asked me if I'd like to save it. Did it meet my criteria? Not even close.

We also stumbled upon a yellowed piece of scrap paper with phone numbers jotted down on it, on the back side my mom had scribbled down a poem for me. Possibly for my 16th birthday or when I graduated from high school. Regardless, it was never given to me and of course I wanted to save it.

I've always told my mom she has a real knack for writing poetry. The sweet words I may never have read have helped allay some of the guilt I feel for rushing her through such a traumatic move.

On a warm and sunny afternoon,
God placed within my hands 
A darling precious baby girl.
We named her Laurie Ann

God said that we could keep her
And have her for our own and
Since that day our love for her
Has deepened and it's grown.

Now suddenly it seems to us, 
That little girl has gone.
No more does she delight us with
A silly phrase or song.

And in her place we find we have
A daughter fully grown.
One with grace and beauty;
A personality all her own.

I thank God for you, Laurie,
And what you've meant to me.
I'm thankful for your beauty,
Both the kind you can and cannot see.

I'm thankful for your loving ways
And the considerate things you do.
But most of all I'm thankful
God saw fit to give me you.