White vinegar, Citrasolv, and water. This is my cleaning solution of choice, and cleaning, it turns out, is about all I’m good for these days.
There are plenty of other things I should be working on, so many tasks left undone over the last few weeks, while my heart and hands and attention have been elsewhere. I’ve lost a friend and also, I realize now, a clear sense of my own purpose. She needed me. I was there. How simple is that? It’s been just over a week since she died, and now, of course, it’s time for the rest of us to keep going. Except that I can’t quite figure out where I’m headed.
I’m home again, but it’s hard to focus, hard to even care much about the to-do list. Here in New Hampshire, the leaves have all fallen from the trees, and the world beyond my kitchen window looks as stark and barren as my own inner landscape. I don’t want to go out to lunch with friends, or work on my book proposal, or write that speech for next week. Cleaning, however, feels wonderful. And so I dust, I vacuum, I wet-mop the floor. Things really do look good enough. But I can’t stop myself. I grab a pile of soft rags — Jack’s beloved old cloud sheets from when he was ten, ripped up now and stuffed into the rag bag — and get down on my hands and knees. The smell of vinegar and orange soothes my senses. It’s a relief to do something with a visible outcome, to feel some measure of accomplishment somewhere, to transform all this love and heartbreak into a job that supports our life in the here and now. The sun pours in. The floor gleams golden. My tears flow, and the soft cloud-sheet rags wipe them away. This is work I can do without thinking, work that satisfies some deep yearning for all that is constant and familiar and necessary. Someone needs to get the crumbs out of the cracks, the smushed raspberries off the counter, the scum out of the sink. It might as well be me.
Life, death, and everything in between — it is all such a mystery. For today perhaps it is enough just to be at ease with things as they are. Perhaps it is simply time to cry and clean the house.
Amen.
Beautifully written.
At times like these, everything else seems trite. Strength to you through these times. Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.
Not to take away from that beautifully written post, but I really like your cleaning solution… going to give it a try!…
And sometimes, just being alone with yourself and letting the tears flow is enough. Especially when you have those old cloud sheets to dry them.
As I have learned from your posts and books many times over, the gift of an ordinary day is a very powerful thing. May you find strength and comfort in all the ordinaries you encounter.
In the weeks since my mother-in-law died I've done a lot of cleaning — outside, ripping out dead stalks and husks, tearing down the wilted garden, and inside, too. Cleaning has always been therapeutic for me — it goes quite well with my Type A personality. We can't control life and death, but we can control how many dust bunnies skitter across the floor. And sometimes that's enough for the moment.
Thinking of you in your grieving time…
I find the same solace in cleaning. Wishing you solace, wherever you find it, Katrina.
I can relate. When it seems like there is nothing I can do, cleaning is very therapeutic.
Lovely post. I believe in the power of cleaning to soothe my soul. Thinking of you. I'm sorry for the loss of your friend.
Dear Katrina,
I have lost three young dear friends to various cancers over the past two years! Last december I lost my best friend Goldie to breast cancer she was 45 and battled for 18 years! She was a HUGE animal advocate. Denise died after battling cancer for 13 years that caused her to lose more than half her tongue. She was 52 when she passed. She missed tasting her food and enjoying a glass of wine. She taught blind children, and had a heart of gold! Lisa died after a short battle with pancreatic cancer! She was 48 when she passed. She was an amazing decorator and kept everything in her home perfect.
Everyday I honor them and move because they cannot. I raise a glass of wine and toast them and drink it because they cannot, I pet a dog, because they cannot, and clean my house and move my kitchen faucet in the middle( just like Lisa taught me)! I miss them everyday but must live because they so desperately wanted to!
I wish you peace:~}
Kathy
To do what soothes your soul seems enough in times like these … my thoughts are with you. What a gift your words are to the world.
Katrina,
I am so sorry to hear about your loss. That is just so heartbreaking. And heartbreak, is one of those unbearable feelings because there is no quick fix or cure. I am sending you peace and comfort and I hope it finds you.
Love,
Pamela
Oh, dear, Katrina, my prayers and gentlest wishes are for you right now. I, too, am stuck in the mire of depression and sorrow over losses in my life. Sorrow and loss are teachers . . . I am learning patience and appreciation for what I have from my current loss. May you find your lesson buried within the pain and move through it. One of my favourite quotes is Winston Churchill's: "When you are going through Hell, keep going."
I can just picture you on the floor of your beautiful kitchen, crying and wiping, crying and wiping. It is such a humbling scene and a humbling place in life. Hugs to you, my friend. Hugs as you once again find your way and move into a winter to remember.
Judy
justonefoot.blogspot.com
Thinking of you and hoping for a moment of calm amidst the painful storm of losing such a beloved friend and kindred spirit.
I just finished your booklast night and I loved it! I want to read Mitten Strings for God next. Thinking about you during this time of sadness.