Possessions

Yesterday was the end of an era: goodbye to the family home. It has taken us weeks to clear out years of stuff hoarded by my mother. Bills dating back to the 90s, cherished letters including a handmade birthday card from me aged 11 saying "Happy birthday - Twenty-one again!", ancient files, family wills, diaries, in fact, as my father's still virtually blind after his operation, we've had to bring four suitcases of papers to Winchester. NB: throw things away in life! On the last day, yesterday, we called in the house clearers and winced as we heard them smashing up wardrobes upstairs. Things which were dear to us were heading for a skip; once prized possessions, now discarded. I went upstairs to see how they were getting on. To my amazement, all that remained on the floor in my parents' bedroom was a pair of my mother's old shoes. We'd cleared out all her clothes ages ago so these must have been stuck behind her wardrobe. I looked at those familiar shoes and saw some familiar feet. I was as if it was the final farewell from her.