loss, neverending

Yesterday didn't go very well. My niece did not come by, nor did my brother who had promised to work on the house and close up the area above my sunroom. So I was home alone, going through the mound of things retrieved from my stepdad's house almost a month ago. I say "retrieved", but actually I should say "forced upon me". My two stepsisters were there trying to get the house clear so it could be shown and sold. Quite a few of Mama's things were still there, more than eleven years after her death.
I knew the teapots were there, as they greeted me on each visit to Frank and each family gathering, but not some of the other things. I had not realized there would be bits of paper bearing her handwriting in the teapots, chronicling the givers and dates when the pretty things became hers. A couple of the teapots had belonged to Grandma and could be most easily differentiated from the others by one trait: they contained matchbooks and matchboxes.
I had not realized some of Mama's clothes would still be there, including the dress in which she wed my stepdad and the dress she wore to my wedding in 1992. There was also a party dress, a gold and black fluttery evening gown for special times. I'm not sure if I recall her wearing it, but I can certainly picture her doing so.
And speaking of pictures - oh, my. Pictures in old, stained photo albums of marriages long dissolved for two of my brothers. Aging photographs of the snowy Christmas in 1989 and of a long-gone summer cook-out when the children were young and the grandkids were few. Pictures in frames, pictures in drugstore folders, pictures loose in the bag from Sipple's Mortuary.
Most of the pictures were of family members at young ages. But some pictures were of Mama. I found several in an old birthday card for Frank, a card that spoke of a pink bunny that "kept going and going", referencing an inside joke.
I found others in a going-away card from folks Mama worked with. Most of these photos were aging Polaroids of a fun time at an office party, but one caused me to burst into tears. In that one image, Mama was laughing and clearly having a great time and I realized how much I missed her laughter. How much I missed her voice. How much I missed her.
That image follwed me around all day yesterday, bringing sobs each time. I even cried myself to sleep last night and had tears with my breakfast this morning. I truly must get some of her dear possessions out of my house. They only emphasize how much I miss her.