Mama Said, "No!"

It'll happen to them like it happened to me.
I cried when I saw Mother's "stuff" arrive in Memphis, packed inside not one, but TWO moving vans.
We had gone through her house, packed all kinds of stuff, the memory of which is still overwhelming.
She held an estate sale. A friend rescued pictures she'd forgotten were in the attic. That's another story.
Still, two moving vans arrived in Memphis and we rented for Mother a three bedroom ground floor apartment with garage. Two of the bedrooms contained stuff. So did the garage.
Should I live so long, others will face this same dilemma.
What to do with "mother's stuff."

At one time, in a galaxy far, far away, my dear friends and I were antique hunters. We rose early, grabbed sustenance and fortification at McDonald's, and arrived at estate sales with the early birds, ready to grab that worm.
We researched the Commercial-Appeal ads and on this one occasion had circled an ad promising "We've been to Mother's attic." Oooh-la-la. That should be good. It was to be our first stop for the day.
Cindy and I had joked about what my mother would do if she saw her prized possessions available for sale. My grandmother had told me she'd "haunt me" if Uncle George's chairs or the tea cart ended up in a yard sale. What would she do if I tried to sell Banmama's celery dish or cake plate?

As we drove to the advertised address, we were giddy that we must be some of the first to arrive.
Then, as we circled to park next to the house, we saw the sign.
"Sale Cancelled."
Oh, how we fell over laughing. Mama had 'risen up' and sent the troops to cancel the sale.
"Mama said "Not only no, but hell-NO!"