The three of us “returned to the scene of the crime” and began picking through my sister’s and my life up to this point. Our stuff was scattered hither and yon in every room, left behind for the new owner to shovel through.
When we went to the basement, saw our dolls, school papers and photos dumped unceremoniously all over the floor, I had a meltdown. Our mother thought so little of us that she allowed our belongings to be treated like garbage. It was disheartening to say the least.
I was so disgusted and dismayed that I refused to gather up any of my possessions. My sister and Dad insisted on picking through everything and managed to salvage some of our school papers, our baby books, dolls and stuffed animals.
At the time I wanted nothing from the house that Mary destroyed. Later in my life, I was humbled by my sister and Dad’s efforts in safekeeping some special items for me. It meant that someone did care and for that I am forever grateful.