My father has been requesting to have my mother's bathroom drawers emptied. I have been avoiding this activity as it seemed as if this might be the final act I would be performing with her. She gave her jewelry to her daughter's and daughter's in law month's before. Her pearls to one new grandchild that most likely will not remember her except through story and photo. It was most difficult to pilfer through her things again. We never allowed ourselves to pilfer while growing up. We learned respect for privacy from her. My two sisters helped clean her closet out. Safety in numbers. We had no arguments ,this one wanted that and the other wanted something else. These drawers were the potions, lotions and perfumes that she used everyday. These items tell the most personal story. What she liked to smell, touch and feel. How age had affected her choices or not. She had not worn mascara for years for it irritated her eyes so none was found. Her eyes were an incredible blue color so the loss had little affect on how beautiful and intense her eyes were. There was other make up some worn little, some worn out with use. The colors in her eye palette were neutral. Lipsticks in bright, happy colors. The lipstick choices giving away her personality, vivid and bold. Old grooming tools, out of date curling irons, manicure kits given to her some birthday or Christmas long ago. Bottles of unused perfume. No empty bottles of Chanel #5 as it was her favorite and she enjoyed using that. Extra tooth brushes always kept for some unexpected guest's dental hygiene. A green bag with a brush full of her beautiful white hair tucked in the back of the drawer as if hidden in shame. She hated losing her hair the most as it was that incredible shade of pure white so few have. The cleansers, bandages and tape that had taken her dignity from her. Empty bottles of pain killers, a reminder of her last days. I miss her so much today.
