My hair was still wet from a quick shower. I rushed out with a leaf blower to clear the driveway of its latest layer of leaves and acorns. As I methodically moved the blower back and forth like an elephant swinging its trunk, the first car pulled up discretely along the side of the road. I continued blowing as more cars appeared and parked.

Help was here! A truck pulled into the drive behind my sister’s car. It was full of folding tables, flattened boxes and bags of packing materials. The team emerged from their vehicles, one by one, wearing company T-shirts and name-tags, carrying their tools and aprons and lunch bags.

Months of stress melted off of me as I greeted the team and announced I wanted to hug each of them. I joked that the neighbors will think Mama died and if anyone shows up with a casserole just take it and say “Thank you.”

My sister did text some neighbors to alert them that a liquidation company was coming to help us. Neighbors here get excited when too many cars are at one house. This is an old neighborhood. The folks who started it and the surrounding churches are now in their eighties and nineties. Many children and grandchildren have moved into the homes of their aging kin as the elderly family members are moved out to a nursing home or die.

It was a great place to grow up. My sister and I will miss the community, but selling the house is a necessity. There are bills to pay. Taking excellent care of a dementia patient is rather expensive. We have two private helpers, Debbie and Monique, who stay with Mama during her active hours. They text us photos and updates so we will not worry about her. This support is worth every penny. They are like family.

If you know Mama, you know she insists on having things her way. She still thinks she is in charge of the world, even from her wheelchair. The dementia has taken away her reasoning ability. My sister and I would like to tell her what we are doing, but she would be horrified to think her home was being dismembered and sold. We are struggling with it ourselves.

If you are a follower, you know that we have spent months carefully going over each item and paper. We have spent hours washing glass, polishing metals, sorting and grouping things and throwing things away. It has been like watching another horribly necessary death.

There will be relief when it is over, but also great sadness. We will have a huge void where our home, our haven, used to be in our lives. Daddy is everywhere there, his shop, his garden building, his garden plot with its perfect soil from years of cultivation. Where will he be when home is gone?

The team from Caring Transitions of Lake Norman has handled our parents’ belongings with care and respect. That means a lot to us. This is how it should be.

The on-line auction will be next week. We hope the people who buy the things will use them and love them. That’s what matters to us.

FLOW