Remember the child’s game, musical chairs? It was the party go-to of my childhood. There are as many chairs as there are children. Each kid starts seated in a chair. When the music plays, kids move around the chairs. When the music stops, each child grabs the closest seat. For each round, a chair is removed so that the kids compete for the limited seats. Whomever is left sitting … is the winner. More than the fighting over limited chairs, I remember the practice of moving around and getting a new seat.
This is how I’ve treated my home for the last ten years plus. When we lived in Los Angeles County, the same home that was rented by two people, at times housed four people. One night, I think there were nine or eleven people sleeping in the house. One room was an office, then my mom’s room and later my kid’s room. I laughed and called it the ever-expanding home as we needed to welcome different folk at different times.
I’m back to musical rooms in my home. This time, I’m repurposing the room that started off as my mom’s room. When my mom became an ancestor, I often slept in her crying and missing her. I cleaned the room, but was slow to move things. Over a year later, I hired a professional organizer to help me sort through some of the clothes. After two days, there were fewer clothes, but I was an emotional mess. I was not okay yet.
The room was used. My family members seem to really like staying there – my aunt and cousins feel at home in the room. I didn’t bother to redecorate: all my mom’s diplomas, photos and prints have been hanging there. When talking with my kid, I’ve called it “Grandma’s room.”
Had my mom lived long enough to enjoy the basement apartment we set up for her, it might not have been “Grandma’s room” for so long. But somehow my child believes that there is always enough love and enough space for people we love. So we are continuing to welcome more people into our home. And that has meant preparing “my mom’s room” for others.
It’s been surprisingly easy. I incorporated whatever clothes or jewelry I wanted into my closet quite awhile ago. Once I found the right place for donations, I packed it all up. I’ve moved files into bookshelves in other rooms. The window dressing is getting moved to another room and I’m putting down drop cloth for a paint job. My friends check in on me and ask how I’m doing. I’m … fine. Like really fine. I’ve gifted prints, rehung photos elsewhere and scanned in awards and diplomas (which technology has made much easier than it was five years ago).
Yes, five years. More than five years. That’s how long it’s taken me to be perfectly okay with moving things around. I know that many people don’t have the privilege of time. So often, one must move a deceased loved ones belongings fairly immediately. Finances and circumstances may not care how you feel about it. I happened to have time, but the easing of grief – well it takes as long as it takes. We can rush moving things, but we can’t predict our feelings. If it were up to me, I’d design both grief and healing as step-by-step linear processes. Turn out being “okay” is just as much as surprise “not being okay yet.”
I’ve generally been in awe every time I play musical rooms. I’m surprised at the way one can repurpose the same space for varying people and needs. I think it works because I play musical rooms to welcome more people or fulfill more dreams of the people in the house (ask me about the time I made a science lab in the basement for the young STEM-loving kid and friends). So maybe that’s the balm for aching grief – love, hospitality, community, and support.
Blessings friends,
Dr. Monica
