I caught the ridiculously early flight. To maximize the time I could help my mom. My mom picked me up from the airport. We went in search of breakfast while we waited by the airport for my sister's later arrival, so she could sleep in.
Once back at my grandma's house the difficult tasks began. Sifting through twenty-two years of memories, and this was just her winter home.
Closets and cupboards were cleaned out. Everything was cleaned. Her silk flowers and furniture were left for staging the house.
We packed up memories through the tears. Told "remember when stories." And allowed ourselves a few relaxing dinners out as breaks.
We even listened to a few baseball games on the radio, as the cable was disconnected when we drove the RV away months ago.
We carefully packed everything we didn't trust anyone else to move into my grandma's Caddy. Using every last inch of available space. My mom drove to the airport, my sister and I with her suitcases on our laps. We dropped my sister off for her flight, and began our drive home.
That was the toughest part for me. The drive I'd done a dozen times with my grandma. Just the wrong way for a Fall trip.
One time when my mom had dozed off, I glanced over and remembered doing the same so many times to make sure my grandma was comfortable. Tears welled up and spilled out of my eyes, rolling down my cheeks.
I miss her so. This was an incredibly difficult week for us all. And this was just her winter home. With little stored. Minimally decorated. We're not ready for the other yet. The one she'd lived in since my mom was in high school. That one will have to wait.