It Ain't Going With You
When dealing with the loss of a parent, we can't help but flash back to our childhood as we are forced to confront family objects that seem to hold a myriad of memories and complex emotions. There are books and photos and furniture and art and a seemingly endless supply of crap that means nothing to anyone but us. And the one word that always seems to fit perfectly is overwhelm. Not only is the loss overwhelming, but the process of sorting through another person's lifetime can make you want to run screaming into the night. And while I've seen this many times, I've also experienced it firsthand so I know that the best advice I can give you is to avoid being in this situation in the first place by subscribing to my favorite rule of downsizing - it ain't going with you!
It's very hard to live like this. I know. But the truth is, all of this "stuff" that sucks us in with the pull of its nostalgia, is simply a catalyst to a memory. And while it's very difficult to resist, you have to do what you can to let go and begin to purge because, guess what, it's going to be your kid someday standing in your driveway with a dumpster asking themselves the eternal question - why the hell did they save THIS? When my mother passed away I came home and immediately went through all of my books and donated most of them to the library. Not because I was suddenly terminally ill, but because I couldn't bear to put my son through what I had just been through. It was a desperate act of parental selflessness and an urge to protect him that gave me a new insight into the things that I was holding onto. Things that meant something to me but would never mean anything to him. I experienced a complete shift in my perspective and I decided that this was a gift I could give him while I was still alive. To downsize, to simplify, to make the decisions about what should be kept and what definitely could go. And since he's an only child and will therefore inherit both his mother's and his father's lifetime, that's a lot of shit to deal with.
I write this because I am now watching my husband deal with closing out his father's estate with the added bonus of a failing mother all at the same time (who he pissed off in his last lifetime to deserve this, I'll never know). The saddest part is that the story never seems to change and we always think that our stuff is soooo valuable (NOT) that it enslaves us as it finds its way into our exploding attics and basements. The next thing you know a 1-800-GOT-JUNK truck is at the curb and all of that precious crap you worked so hard to hang onto is in a landfill never to be seen again. And I don't mean the valuable stuff. We all have things that have been handed down through generations, or antiques that are still functional and beautiful, or photos that we cherish. The irreplaceable things are not on the block here. I'm talking abut the excess, and the things you know damn well nobody else will ever want. Once again it's about being pragmatic, having some self-control, and using good judgement. I also believe that the less there is, the more special it becomes. Like the chair in the corner of my bedroom. It's the only thing I have that belonged to my grandmother (whom I adored) and when I was a kid we used to play on it in her bedroom so it's full of fond memories for me. It's also a very comfortable chair and I've reupholstered it to suit my taste. This is pragmatism, self-control and good judgement in action with only a sprinkle of nostalgia, and it works. Unlike my childhood teddy bear, who can still put a twinkle in my eye but I know is destined to be the mascot on the front grill of a garbage truck one day. And that's just fine with me.