Damn.

 

When my mother died in 2014, my siblings and I were tasked with sifting through and disposing of all her possessions.  I was a regular visitor at my mother’s home in her final years but mostly stayed in the public rooms and didn’t open drawers or closets that were private. So I was surprised at how much stuff she had accumulated and how many decisions we had to make regarding where these possessions were going to go. It was overwhelming.

My mother grew up during the Great Depression and World War 2. These years of scarcity left a forever impact on her. She was constantly acquiring things (often at garage sales or thrift stores) “just in case”.   She also lived in a remote location and didn’t have a supermarket or Target anywhere close by. Going to the grocery was, at best, an hour proposition and, in that scenario, you would be lucky if the small grocery had what you needed. Consequently, she also got into the habit of buying large quantities so as to have a back up (for herself and for neighbors who might be in need).  All this is to say, it made sense that her closets, cupboards, drawers, and shelves were jam packed with stuff.

I am sad to acknowledge now that I was judgmental when we were cleaning out the house. As we emptied cabinet after cabinet, drawer after drawer, box after box, I remember thinking, “What the heck? Did she not know she was going to die? She was 92 years old at the time of her death. Did she not think that this stuff was going to need to be dealt with after her death?” 

In retrospect, I now think that, of course, she knew that. It must have been painful at times to know that everything she owned would one day be dismissed by someone else. Sure, there are pieces of memorabilia that we all chose to keep but, for the most part, her possessions were given to family members, friends, Goodwill, or, yes, the trash can. That was hard. Very hard. For me, it felt as if her hopes and plans and days were being discarded. I wondered why she hadn’t done much of this herself?

Well, who wants to do that? How painful is it to give away your life? But maybe even more than that was the notion that to give away, to dispose of, all of these things must have seemed like an overwhelming job. My father died in 1996 and my mother continued to live in their home until close to her death. She wanted very much to remain independent and she had her daily routines. She had always been a strong, vibrant woman but the years took their toll. I know she was physically tired. I know she hurt every single day. She had severe arthritis and she was old. How was she supposed to dispose of possessions even if she wanted to? I know she would give things away but there was so much there that when giving someone a favorite mug or some books, it barely made a scratch. And she was still in scarcity mode. She still gathered even as she was getting closer to leaving the planet.

I find it all so poignant now. I ache for her. I am older now. I hurt more too. I look around and wonder about the stuff that I have accumulated. I am determined that my children will not have to sift through my things, making decisions, wondering if they are doing it right. I am not my mother. Growing up as a grandchild of the Great Depression, I have a small piece of that scarcity mindset but at least I know it. I also live with easy access to a grocery and general goods store. I don’t have to stash things. But I still have stuff. 

I think about going through and getting rid of things now but, guess what? I find it overwhelming.  I think of all the other things I want to do. The last thing on my “to do” list is to thoroughly clean out that closet. I don’t want to be bothered right now when, instead, I want to read, to write, to paint, to go to the beach, to spend time with family. I tell myself there will be time later to go through accumulated possessions. Is that true? I don’t know.  

What I know now is that it is fine that my mother left her home the way she did. It was fine that she surrounded herself with things that somehow soothed her or made her feel good in some way. I have no business being judgmental. Walk in an old person’s shoes and you know lots that you couldn’t see when you were an arrogant younger person.  In my case, that arrogant younger person is only eight years younger.  A lot has happened even in eight years to humble me. I know that part to be true.  

As far as my stuff is concerned? I am focusing now mostly on not acquiring anything else. Yes, I can buy consumable things - art supplies, fresh flowers, gifts for friends/family, toys for the children who visit, an occasional article of clothing just for fun - but I don’t want or need any jewelry, knick knacks, kitchen tools, bed or bath items, seasonal decorations, none of it. My goal is to avoid bringing more into the house. I want to look for ways to let go of things, bit by bit. When the opportunity arises to give away, I plan to do just that. Coat drive this winter? Book drive at the library? Is someone I know excited about certain author and I own books they might like? Here you go! And when I die there will still be things to dispose of. I know that. But I hope I will have had some say over time in the disposal of much of my stuff. And I hope my children will not have odd judgmental feelings in my absence.  I’m doing the best that I can. But so was my mother. I know that now. Damn.