A tricky removal

Not long ago my father-in-law lost his struggle to live at home and was admitted to an old people's home specialising in "EMI" (Elderly Mentally Infirm). It is hard to put yourself in his place and see the transition from his perspective. But we can be sure it will be registered as a change, and therefore a stressful event in his mind, even though outwardly he seems to show little sign of disturbance. But what is he really feeling on the inside? It's impossible for us to identify with his plight, though we can try

For us too it heen a traumatic time. It has been heartbreaking to witness his loss of independence, that thing which all of us aspire to so dearly. And now his house is empty, we are faced with the task of gradually getting it into condition for its sale. This morning I took on the task of clearing the old pots and pans from his kitchen. It proved much more difficult than I had anticipated. What seemed to be a straightforward job of bagging up the now useless  utensils, turned into a kind of nightmarish journey of ennui and nostalgia. The origins of that word, of course. come from a Greek word having to do with pain. And painful it was. In fact, at one point it became too much for me. I found his old shoe-cleaning box, complete with brushes and polishes of all kinds,  everything neatly packed into a plastic box and tucked in a conveniently accessible place under the kitchen sink.

Other items were also redolent of a more capable past, but I was more easiy able to dispatch these to the waiting black sacks, three of which I eventually filled with ironware of all descriptions, weighing more than 10 kg in total.

But I just couldn't bring myself to throw that cleaning kit away, so intensely personal to him as it was. So it lies there still, in a handy place right under the kitchen sink, ready to shine shoes at any moment, but destined never to do so again.